Oddity
by Sandra E
Summary: [MirokuKagome] Exhausted by exams, Kagome puts herself in a compromising situation. Fortunately, our favorite monk would never, ever, take advant... oh, my God, Kagome, run!
1. Anatomy

Must. Resist. Fangirl. Japanese.

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Title: Oddity

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Author: Sandra

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Category: Humor, romance, yadda, blah, moo.

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Spoilers: Yep. Please note that this is a slight _AU,_ _especially_ _where_ _Miroku's_ _past is concerned_. No whining, now.

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Rating: R, because Miroku is a naughty little boy.

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Summary: Exhausted by exams, Kagome puts herself in a compromising situation. Fortunately, our favorite monk would never, ever, take advant... oh, my God, Kagome, run!

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Disclaimer: Me no speak a da English. But if, by chance, I did, I'd say that I own nothing except a Harry Potter pencil. And it's not even a very good pencil. It's crap. I tried to sharpen it in math, and it broke. It's a broken pencil. 

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Author's Note: I know. _Juvenile_. But, in my defense, so is the show.

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Feedback: Well, duh.

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Etc: I couldn't decide which story to update. So. Compromise. New story. Um.

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Setting: Early. Around _Episode_ _17_. Post-Kikyou, pre-Sango.

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Prologue

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Anatomy (n): something everyone has, but which looks better on a girl.

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There were two theories to arguing with women.

Neither one was particularly successful, so Miroku, the delinquent monk, decided to sip his tea in silence.

Higurashi Kagome, with her cheeks flushed and her hair tousled, was staring at him. Miroku continued to drink calmly, one bushy eyebrow arched ever so slightly.

An incredulous whimper rolled off Kagome's lips. 

Miroku stared at his fingers intently.

"You—you pervert!" she shrieked suddenly, her eyes narrowing to tiny, furious slits.

Somewhere in the distance, a half-demon tumbled to the ground, his dog ears perking up.

Miroku looked entirely too innocent.

"Kagome-sama," he began sweetly, "I meant no disrespect. There was simply a... piece of, er... grass tarnishing your, uh, kimono, and I felt compelled to remove it."

Kagome balled up her little fists. A threatening scowl marred her pretty face, but she remained more or less incoherent.

Miroku hid a grin.

Kagome eyed a pair of chopsticks with an odd (and slightly disturbing) expression, then, to Miroku's surprise, screamed, "_Inuyasha_!"

Eek.

Half a second later, a blur of red sailed past Miroku, brandishing a shiny sword and baring its fangs.

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Kuso.

"What the hell IS it, wench?" Inuyasha snarled, pointing his sword at Kagome.

Kagome swallowed hard. "Um, nothing?"

Miroku relaxed.

Inuyasha, on the other hand, growled and poked Kagome's shoulder. Kagome's little kimono, which should have been practically illegal as it was as inappropriate as a fat geisha, rode up a little higher on her thigh. Miroku did his best to ignore this new development.

Unfortunately, Kagome scooted closer. 

"Well, no, actually, there is this one tiny little thing," she said with more confidence. She batted her eyelashes, and Miroku prayed his death would be quick and painless. Though, knowing Inuyasha, even that concept didn't quite appeal.

Impatiently, Inuyasha tapped his foot.

"Inuyasha," said Miroku quickly, "Kagome just, er, wanted your opinion on..."

Damn it. Think, _think_.

Kagome shot him an offended glance, crossing her arms. She opened her mouth, looked at a bloodthirsty Inuyasha, then sighed and closed her mouth. Her expression softened as she said, "...On, um, this—" here, she looked around frantically. "Oh! This here... what _is_ this?"

"...that's rice, you stupid girl!" hollered Inuyasha.

Shippou, who'd been curled up in a darkened corner, napping peacefully, jumped up. He rubbed his little eyes, and yawned adorably. And then he said something that must've impressed even Inuyasha (though he certainly didn't _seem_ appreciative as he bonked the little kitsune over the head).

Soon, Inuyasha was chasing Shippou, stepping all over their dinner, and Kagome was glaring at Miroku.

Um.

"Fix it," she whispered pointedly.

Miroku blinked. "What?"

"You started it," she said.

"You're the one who called him."

"But you—groped—and—my—_ooh_!" 

A small grin tugged at the corners of his lips.

Kagome bristled. "Just fix it."

"Why should I?" asked Miroku very, very innocently. A smirk played about his features.

Kagome blinked. And blinked again. Then blinked some more. "Because... I said so?"

Shippou cried out.

Inuyasha cackled maniacally.

The shack trembled.

Miroku gave a calm shrug. "Somehow, I'm not very motivated."

Kagome's jaw all but dropped. She glanced over at him, then at the destruction the hanyou was causing, then back at Miroku.

"SIT!" she yelled. Obediently, Inuyasha dropped to the ground, tumbling out of the room and burying his face in a puddle of mud.

"OW! BITCH! When I get my hands on—" he roared.

Kagome bit her lip.

Miroku found it endearing.

"I'll make you a deal, Miroku-sama," she sighed, then glanced over her shoulder. "SIT! Sit, sit, sit!"

"KUSO! I hate you! And when I get up I'm going to—"

"If you fix it, Miroku-sama," Kagome mumbled, "I'll get us out of here. To—to somewhere nicer."

"—tear off your stupid LIMBS and BEAT you with the wet end and—"

Several pink spots appeared on her cheeks, and Miroku grinned. "Ano, Kagome-chan, if I fix it, wouldn't **_I _**be getting us out of here? Technically, of course."

Her blush was gone, only to be replaced by a rising flush of anger.

"I should really ask Kaede-baachan for another necklace," she said pointedly.

Unfortunately, Miroku found the concept oddly—pleasing.

A chill ran down his spine.

He snuck a peek at her. 

She looked sleepy. Exhausted, even. Her arms were raised, her fingers massaging her temples (which, Miroku noticed, caused the fabric of her tiny kimono to bunch up in the most delicious of places), and she seemed unusually tense.

Miroku raised an eyebrow.

"—and then I'm going to rip out HIS bowels and—"

"Please? I'm too tired to deal with this," she whimpered. "I've had three exams this morning. Three."

Miroku raised an eyebrow.

"And one was on allylic rearrangement. _Allylic_ _rearrangement_, Miroku-sama."

Miroku was staring at her lips.

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Shiny.

"And I'm pretty sure my psychology professor thinks I'm insane because I was so tired I signed my name as Kikyou," she babbled, "and—SIT, Inuyasha!—he's going to think I either wanted to cheat, or that I'm having Freudian issues, neither of which will help me pass the—"

She had nice hair, Miroku noted.

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Bouncy. _And_ _silky_.

"And hypotenuse? I thought that was a hippopotamus demon. The Pythagorean theorem will never be the same."

And her breasts— 

"So..." she took a deep breath, giving him a pleading look.

Miroku observed her for a moment.

"Mnh, all right," he said finally. "I ask only a simple favor in return."

Kagome looked at him suspiciously. "...My mother doesn't want grandchildren yet."

Miroku couldn't help but grin brilliantly.

Then, he frowned melodramatically. "You see, my—"

"SIT!"

"—ugly—kill—wench—"

Miroku scooted closer. Shippou scurried past them, running off to jump on Inuyasha's head while he still could.

"Go on," said Kagome worriedly. She stood up warily, and watched for signs of danger.

Urp.

"Thank you, Kagome...chan," Miroku smiled distractedly. Now that she was standing up, towering above him—

Oh. Hey. If he moved three inches to the left, he could—yes, there we go. The view was spectacular. Her ankles seemed smooth and shiny. His gaze traveled upwards slowly. She had a small scar under her right knee. 

And... pink undergarments.

Now, if only she would lean over just a little bit more—

"I... eeh."

"What's wrong, Mi—SIT!"

Wrong? Oh, nothing. _Just_ _don_'_t_ _look_ _at_ _my_ _robes_. Or face. Or lap. Or, at all.

When Kagome finally sat down again, Miroku pasted his patented nonchalant expression back on his flushed face.

"All I ask," he began conversationally, "is that you accompany me to a village just north of here."

Kagome blinked. "That's it? Weren't we going there anyway?" Relief swept across her features, so Miroku moved closer.

"Yes, I believe we were. However, I need you to go alone," he replied coolly. "With me."

Kagome raised her eyebrows in confusion, tugging on her sleeves nervously. "Alone? What? Why? Alone?"

"Four valid questions," smirked Miroku. Off of Kagome's blank stare, he added, "My mother lives there."

Kagome was silent for a long moment.

"And...?" she asked.

Miroku inched closer, almost pouting. "And... she worries."

Kagome eyed him skeptically, so he continued. "About my kazaana," he said simply.

"Oh," sighed Kagome softly. Her fingers reached out to touch his hand comfortingly when—

"Wait," she frowned. "Why do you need me to go _alone_ with you?"

Miroku shifted uneasily.

Kagome waited. And waited. Then waited some more.

"Miroku-sama?"

"I need her to believe I've taken care of my future," he said quietly, trying to bite back a grin.

Kagome looked at him rather innocently.

Darn.

Now he was having second thoughts.

But her tiny kimono was fluttering under a slight breeze, tempting him with little glimpses of creamy skin, so he whispered, feigning anguish, "She has to believe I've chosen a wife to bear me a son, one who will continue to fight this curse should I fail."

...according to the rule he'd just made up.

Kagome squeaked a little, then stared at him with wide eyes. "And, um, you need me to, _um_, pretend—"

"Only for a few days, Kagome-sama," he said sweetly.

Kagome whimpered. "I'm not _that_ tired."

"Wench!" came an enraged snarl somewhere behind them.

Inuyasha, his face dirty, stood over them, shaking with rage.

A small, frightened, "Eep!" rolled off Kagome's lips.

"Inuyasha!" said Miroku valiantly. "I've heard of a rumor," he continued quickly. "Supposedly, there is a shard of the Shikon in a small village to the south."

A clump of dirt slid off Inuyasha, plopping to the ground, but he seemed to be listening. Shippou poked his head back in. Kagome sat with her hands in her lap, looking pensive and a tiny bit intrigued.

"_Go_ _on_, monk," said Inuyasha through gritted teeth.

"Right then," Miroku cleared his throat. _Think_, damn it. "The only problem is, that village? Humans aren't welcome."

Kagome coughed uncomfortably.

Inuyasha, however, seemed to consider this. "Finally, a smart village."

Kagome pouted. Miroku tried not to look offended.

"Well, _I'm_ not going if Kagome's not going!" grumbled Shippou. He quickly crossed the room, and snuggled into Kagome's lap, looking at her with an almost reverent expression.

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Kuso, thought Miroku.

"FEH. Who needs you anyway?" scoffed Inuyasha, crossing his arms. Shippou stuck out his tongue. Miroku drank some more.

Kagome, for her part, was strangely quiet.

"And... how far away is this village, Miroku-sama?" she asked eventually, deep in thought.

"Oh... about a day," replied Miroku. "Oh! I meant... um, four."

"Feh. I can do it in two," grumbled Inuyasha. "Hell, without you worthless humans, I bet I can make it in one. No, wait. An hour."

Everyone ignored him.

Shippou snuggled closer, playing with Kagome's little red necktie. Miroku shot him a death glare.

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Lucky _brat_.

Kagome bit her lip, exchanging glances with a scheming Miroku. "So... Inuyasha would have to travel south and we would...?"

"Head north, until Inuyasha and Shippou catch up with us."

"I'm NOT leaving Kagome!" grumbled the little kitsune.

"And I'm not taking the little brat!"

Miroku sighed. _Mataka_.

Suddenly, Kagome yawned. All eyes turned to her.

"Gomen," she mumbled sheepishly. "I—never mind."

"So, it's settled!" Miroku all but clapped his hands. "Kagome-sama and I will—"

"And me!"

Sigh.

"And _Shippou_ will wait for Inuyasha in the village up north. With any luck, we will have two more shards by the end of the week. A... productive week, dare I say!"

Nudge, nudge, wink, wink.

Inuyasha seemed much calmer. Compared to a few minutes ago, when Miroku was seriously considering ripping off his protective beads and— 

Miroku glanced over at Kagome to see whether she was impressed by his diplomacy, but—

Twitch, twitch.

She was leaning against a wall, her eyes closed. Her lips parted softly, thin fingers running through Shippou's tangled hair.

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I should really start hating that _kid_.

Miroku was busy watching the soft rise and fall of her chest when she suddenly stirred slightly. Shippou rolled off her lap, and she curled up, turning her, er... back to Inuyasha.

Quickly, Miroku arranged his features into an innocent expression, then glanced at Inuyasha. Inuyasha seemed slightly flushed as he snapped his head around.

"I wasn't looking!" he said quickly.

"No. Of course not. Me neither," replied Miroku calmly. 

"Looking at what?" asked Shippou, tilting his little head.

Inuyasha drop-kicked him into the next century.

Unk.

"So... _good_ _night_, Inuyasha," said Miroku anxiously.

Go on. Get out. Leave. _Leave_.

"Don't even think about it, monk," replied Inuyasha sourly. "I'm not leaving you in the same room with my shard detector."

Bah.

"Leave me with what and hmm?" mumbled Kagome. She stretched languorously, looking at them through thick, dark eyelashes.

Miroku watched her with a goofy grin, his eyes glazing over.

"Feh, stupid girl," was all Inuyasha could manage.

Kagome looked around, then smiled cheerily. "Oh! Don't worry, Inuyasha, I'll just finish my, um, tea, and go to my own, er, quarters?"

"Idiot wench! I'm not worrying, because I—I don't like you!" growled Inuyasha, then stalked out furiously.

An awkward moment followed. Miroku shifted uncomfortably. Kagome was looking intently at the ground.

"Okay," she said suddenly.

"Hmm?"

"I'll help you."

Miroku grinned.

"I don't approve of you lying to Inuyasha, but I... don't want to think about your mother having to worry."

Miroku's grin grew.

"Besides, I need to study, and I guess I can do that at your village."

"Oh, certainly," lied Miroku, then scooted closer. "Thank you, Kagome-sama," he said as sincerely as he could.

Her cheeks were pink, but she managed to mutter, "Don't mention it," before leaning against the wall again.

Miroku shifted until he was right next to her, their knees almost touching.

And... she wasn't leaving?

Which was a good thing. With interesting ideas attached to it. Improper, too. 

Miroku raised an amused eyebrow.

Maybe she wanted to read him a story, like she often did for Shippou?

Only, by _read_, Miroku meant kiss. And by _story_, he meant... bed.

Kagome yawned, quite ungracefully.

"Gomen," she mumbled. "I've had a long week."

Long. Uh huh.

Miroku nodded sympathetically. His fingers itched.

"It's just so hard sometimes, you know?" Kagome sighed.

Hard. Certainly.

"Hai," muttered Miroku, watching her lips move.

Pretty lips.

"I wish we could collect those shards faster and—"

Faster. Yes. Good plan.

"My grandfather's running out of excuses already, and I—" Kagome was saying, but Miroku wasn't quite listening.

She was leaning against his shoulder, practically mumbling into his chest. She was definitively trying to entice him.

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He was going for indifferent innocence.... no, wait. Indifferent interest. No, wait. Kagome's thigh.

Just as his fingers were about to brush against her skin, Kagome yawned. She seemed on the verge of sleep.

Which... must have been a ruse. She couldn't fall asleep now that they were finally alone. It would be... unfair. And frustrating. And possibly dangerous.

Miroku wrinkled his nose. "Ano, Kagome-chan...?" he inquired softly.

Kagome looked up at him through thick eyelashes. "Hai?" A sleepy smile tugged at her lips.

Sigh.

Ne, maybe he was imagining it. It was hardly possible for a female to resist _this_ Miroku, but perhaps this Kagome was—entirely too innocent? Pure and sweet like the morning dew. Chaste as—

She stretched. Luxuriously. Arms up, high above her head. A small sigh escaped her parted lips.

Miroku twitched violently.

—perhaps not.

This wouldn't do. At all. If she wasn't trying to seduce him, well, he just wouldn't—

Her small sigh melted into a moan as she arched backward.

And there goes her chest, he thought numbly. Right, then. 

The scent of black tea and white jasmine lingered in the air, rich and sweet and yes, it was so very obvious now. Higurashi Kagome wanted him, the furyou houshi. _Badly_.

And _this_ houshi was nothing if not generous. Why, he would not—_could_ not—refuse a beautiful woman in need. Especially if that need happened to coincide with his own. Really, it was all _very_ noble. _And_ selfless. And for the good of humankind. And puppies and babies.

He poked her lightly.

Nothing.

She's _sleeping_, he thought with glee. _In_ _my_ _lap_.

A tiny grin quirked the corners of his lips upwards.

Feeling noble, he tucked his fingers as far away from temptation as humanly possible, then leaned back smugly.

What did it matter if she slept now?

He'd have her all to himself for _days_.

And in such a cozy environment, Higurashi Kagome would be hard pressed _not_ to confess her burning desire for Miroku.

After all, what woman wouldn't?

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Kagome: You're delusional.

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Miroku: Yes, that's why you fell asleep in my lap. _My_ _lap_.

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Kagome: .......Touch me and die, monk.

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Miroku: What? No, no. I was _promised_ touching. Among other things.

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Kagome: I... I quit!


	2. Temptation

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Author's Note: Yes. _Kagome/Miroku_. You may all fake shock now. ^_^ I really have no excuse, apart from believing all of us know a Miroku or two, and they're usually irresistible. Plus, Inuyasha can have Kagome in the manga. In _fanfic_, I expect her to be smart and original enough to either fall for a) Miroku, or b) Sesshoumaru. Hell, even Kouga, Hojou, or Hiten work for me.

Also, I know Miroku is being really shallow and, um, a boy? But hey, I need him to _fall_ _in_ _love_ with Kagome. And vice versa. And that takes time.

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Step **One**

Opportunity may knock only once, but temptation leans on the doorbell.

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The journey of a hundred miles began with insomnia.

And evil, evil temptation.

Miroku, who'd spent several hours being noble until his brain hurt, sighed.

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Tch, _Miroku_, he scolded himself. _It's always darkest before dawn_. So, if you're planning on groping Kagome—_this_ _is_ _the_ _time_ _to_ _do_ _it_.

Grugh.

Kagome, on the other hand, slept peacefully. Occasionally, she would surprise him with a little mewl or two. 

And even though Miroku noticed that the little kitsune hadn't returned [to interrupt] yet, he'd been politely keeping his fingers to himself.

And now his fingers hated, hated, _hated_ him.

But eventually, Kagome rolled a little to the side. Miroku could've sworn she was awake. She snuggled closer and curled her fingers against his thigh.

Miroku's throat went dry.

Which is why he felt completely justified when he graciously allowed his impatient fingers to finally roam. Why, it was his duty. His obligation as a man. The universe wanted it that way. And possibly Buddha, too.

Of course, there were rules and procedures involved with groping. It wasn't just a random, careless practice, _no_. It was an art, a craft. A higher plane of existence, even.

Miroku was sleep-deprived.

And possibly overly dramatic.

So, he slid his left hand a little lower, tangling his fingers in Kagome's hair. Kagome shifted, mumbling into his lap. As her lips moved, so did Miroku's muscles.

Oi, _no_.

One hand slipped further, brushing against her shoulder. Her strange red necktie caressed the back of his hand, and since she was curled up on her side, he could see—

Cleavage.

His fingertips brushed across her kimono lightly. With an innocent expression, Miroku looked left and right, then carefully lifted the hem of her little kimono. _Ooh_, _my_ _fingers_ _slipped_, he would've used as an excuse had she woken up. His other hand left her silky hair and returned to her red necktie.

Silly necktie, he mused, thinking it could hide her obviously big—

Not that he was looking or anything.

Except, yes. Yes, he was.

And he wasn't feeling particularly apologetic, either.

Generally, when a beautiful young thing was so conveniently dropped into his lap (which wasn't as often as he'd have preferred), he would've disrobed her by now. Naturally, he'd usually discover some ugly flaw (like a hairy mole, or a second chin, or worse, a third nipple), and run for the hills where he would, undoubtedly, repeat the same unfortunate mistake. Hff. _Some_ women.

But with this Kagome—

He snuck a peek. So far, rather acceptable.

And by _rather_ _acceptable_, he meant "I will have her now. And later. And twice before lunch."

Miroku shifted uncomfortably.

With a determined grace, he pressed his hands to her warm skin, slipping his arm around her waist, and lowering his head. Her hair tickled his cheek and her skin was warming his hands quite sufficiently and—

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She. _Was_. _Staring_. _At_. _Him_.

Eek!

Lightning-quick, she was up in the air.

Dazed, Miroku stared at his empty lap.

"Kyaaaah!" was all he could understand as she bounced before him.

Hn. So, not a total loss, he thought as she jiggled.

Kagome, for her part, looked wild and uncontrollably furious (and attractive, Miroku's sleepy brain supplied helpfully). Pink spots covered her cheeks completely, and she was shaking with barely suppressed rage.

Miroku cringed.

If only she would adjust her necktie so he wouldn't have to see—

Kagome sputtered unintelligibly.

Then tackled him violently. 

Unfortunately, Miroku enjoyed having her sprawled across him a little too much. Straddling him wasn't quite as intimidating as a girl in Kagome's position might think. So, promptly, she reached for his staff (the metal one) and tried to smack him over the head, and suddenly, Miroku wasn't enjoying himself as much.

Kagome swung the golden staff, then dropped it like it carried a disease.

Her eyes widened in shock.

"Ow!" he grumbled. "You tried to kill me."

Kagome looked sheepish, wriggling in his lap. "Um, just a little?" she said apologetically.

And then, her sense returned to her, and she frowned and—

—smacked him like he'd never been smacked before (and he found himself surprised to admit he _didn_'_t_ enjoy it), and jumped away. Anger and embarrassment vied for control of her flushed features, and Miroku remained sitting on the floor in hopes of being ignored.

"You—my—why was I—?" she was rambling as she nervously paced the still-dark room.

Miroku rubbed his head, pouting.

"And incidentally, aren't you a _monk_?" she screeched, hair flying wildly.

Miroku wasn't paying attention. His poor cheek stung.

This wasn't part of the groping, damn it.

"Kagome-sama, you fell asleep in my lap," he mumbled defensively.

"I did not!"

Miroku winced. "Except you did."

"Except you're lying," she said, poking him accusingly. She took a deep breath, and leveled her gaze with his.

Miroku sighed. "I was just about to wake you up," he said amicably. "As you were..." he averted his gaze, trying to bite back a snicker. "You were, how should I put this? Becoming friendly with my—"

Kagome blanched. "Stop!"

For a moment, Miroku was certain she would spontaneously combust, and he'd be left to explain to everyone why exactly Kagome was missing. "Touché," he said soothingly, standing up. His hands were positioned awkwardly, as he didn't know where to put them. (Fine. So, he did know, but obviously, he couldn't at the moment.) He tried to look as innocent as possible, but Kagome continued to glare at him from a small distance.

Suddenly, she threw her hands in the air. "I refuse to believe you," she spun around. "Furthermore, I don't think I should be left alone with you anymore."

Miroku grinned, amused. "Afraid you'll actually want to bear my children?" he asked cockily before he could stop himself.

Kagome gave him a death glare. Miroku fell silent. His fingers itched impatiently.

"And—and I'm going to tell Inuyasha there IS no shard at that village," she threatened.

Miroku scratched the back of his head. "All very well, however, he already left."

"Really?" whimpered Kagome.

Well, Miroku certainly hoped so. Eheh.

Kagome slumped to the floor with a sigh. "You've got to stop doing that, Miroku," she said eventually.

Miroku frowned. The lying or the groping?

Oh, well. Lesser of two evils. He was never a good liar anyway.

"I—apologize," he said sincerely, keeping to his side of the room. The sun began its slow ascent somewhere behind Kagome, peeking through wooden planks, and Miroku sighed.

"I don't think I'll be—_able_—to help you unless you show me some respect," she continued, staring at the floor.

Feh. He _did_ respect her. Only, it was so easy to get distracted with a pretty girl like h—

Oh, look. _Her_ _kimono_ _is_ _still_ _not_ _properly_ _tucked_ _in_.

"I need you to treat me as a friend," she was saying.

Miroku mumbled under his breath.

"I need you to think about something else _besides_ groping!"

Miroku blinked. "I do," he said, offended.

There was the Shikon and revenge and food and long legs—

"Fine," she huffed. "Then you won't mind if we play a little game."

Miroku's eyes widened happily. He tilted his head, and observed her enthusiastically. "_Game_?"

Kagome blushed horribly. She sputtered for a moment, then shook her little fist at him. "Not that kind of game!"

"Oh," he sighed disappointedly. Then, he perked up. "Can we play this game without our clothes? Is there a rule against that?"

Kagome looked away exasperatedly. She seemed to be counting quietly to ten. Miroku had to admit he was confused as to why.

Her face was an interesting shade of red as she turned to glare at him. She pointedly ignored his question (which was completely valid, thank you very much), and poked his forehead with her cute little finger. Miroku resisted licking it.

"_It's called word association_," she gritted out dangerously. She paused to watch him stare at her finger, then quickly moved it away. A bewildered look took over her features. 

"It'll prove my point," she wobbled.

Intrigued, Miroku raised a bushy eyebrow. "I'd gladly concede to your point, Kagome-sama, if you—"

She was flushing prettily. "I'm not getting naked!"

It would've been amusing if it hadn't been, well, arousing.

Still, Miroku, who'd suddenly decided to win this girl over the proper way, composed himself and smiled innocently. "I was merely suggesting we play this... _game_... quietly."

Hint, hint, nudge, wink.

"Oh."

"After all, I doubt our hosts would understand."

Kagome was silent. And slightly paranoid.

Miroku grinned. "So. How do we play this little game?"

__

Preferably with our hands._ Though I suppose, under duress, they could be optional_.

He couldn't help but waggle his eyebrows. Kagome noticed, and scowled at him.

"Erm, well," she began, watching him suspiciously, "I'm going to say a random word, and you're going to tell me the first thing that comes to your mind."

Eek!

Evil wench.

No matter. Miroku could school his responses.

Hopefully.

"It's _quite_ telling, really," Kagome was saying, an almost mischievous grin playing about her lips. She plopped herself on the ground before him, folding her hands and looking precious and innocent and—

"Are you ready, Miro-kun?"

__

To tackle you? Very well, if you insist.

Instead, as Miroku was neither stupid nor in possession of a death-wish, he nodded.

"Okay. Hmm. Sky?" she asked, staring at him through narrowed eyes.

__

Cloud _shaped_ _like_ _a_ _nubile_ _woman_. Several nubile women. Dancing. For Miroku. All for Miroku.

"Blue," he said calmly.

Kagome looked disappointed.

Miroku grinned.

"Hmm," she scratched her chin, deep in thought. "Wind."

"Kazaana," he said automatically.

Kagome's eyes widened. Then, her bottom lip trembled. "Oh. Miroku-sama, I didn't mean to—"

"Carry on, Kagome-sama," he said firmly.

"Um, okay," she mumbled, averting her eyes. "Tree?"

"Woman."

"_What_?"

Darn. "What?" he looked at her guilelessly.

Kagome raised her eyebrows. "Never... mind." She glanced at him skeptically. "Moon?"

"Wo... urm. Lake?"

Kagome blinked. "Sheesh. I don't think I took enough psychology to understand you," she mumbled. "Why a lake?"

Miroku smiled charmingly. _Go_ _in_ _for the_ _kill_. Now. _Now_.

"Well, that's where I first met you, Kagome-sama," he said simply, inconspicuously draping his hand over her leg. She didn't seem to notice. "And there was a moon. So."

Kagome blinked. And blinked some more.

And didn't smack his hand away.

Smugly, Miroku raised his chin up. "Next?" he asked fearlessly.

Hah. This was easy. Silly Kagome, trying to—

An almost evil grin quickly curved her lips upwards, but she asked innocently, "Milk?"

"Breas...d. Bread!" he said quickly, flushing. "Which a person would eat. Yes. Bread!"

__

Kuso!

"I rest my case," said Kagome confidently. "Oh, and Miroku-sama?"

"Yes, Kagome-sama?"

"Remove your hand before I remove it for you," she said sweetly.

Miroku wrinkled his nose.

"I'm going to find Shippou-chan," she said as she rose, dusting off her little kimono.

Miroku remained seated.

"I'm going to keep my word, Miroku-sama," she continued softly, "but I reserve the right to change my mind if you keep—that is, if you _don't _keep your fingers to yourself."

Miroku glanced up as Kagome quickly bolted outside, into the chilly early morning.

Miroku bit his lip, staring at his hands.

__

Hn.

Obviously, getting Kagome to bear his children would take effort. A lot of effort.

Miroku grinned.

__

Repeated effort.

.

.

.

.

.

****

Kagome: Sigh. You need to look past your immature lust and see me as a person.

****

Miroku: ...And you need to take less psychology. Besides, I see you just fine. I can see your face and your eyes, and sometimes when you run, I can see your—Kagome, what are you doing with that axe?


	3. Trapped

****

Author's Note: Thank you for all the reviews. You guys are _so_ cute. Really. Miroku likes you all. Except that Kouga's chick who called us perverts. Her, he adores.

And incidentally, those of you reminding me Miroku proposed to _Sango _in the manga—um, you're kinda missing the point? ^_^;

__

Don't make me add Sango to this. _::shakes fist::_ Because, if I do, she'll be with Inuyasha. -_-

Also, remember to ignore Episode 28, even though it clearly shows how much Kagome and Shippou care for our pretty monk. Um, I meant, our _brave_ monk. Looks matter not. Except, they really, really do.

.

.

.

****

Step **Two**

A closed mouth gathers no foot.

.

.

.

It was juicy and tart on his tongue, this pseudo-conquest, like sinking his teeth into raw meat.

Even his fingers felt compelled to forgive him.

Miroku, the traveling monk, was doing one of the things he quite excelled at.

__

Traveling.

Granted, it wasn't exactly the activity he'd preferred to have been doing, but given his options, traveling with a beautiful girl, en route to a remarkably secluded village where he would have his way, in _every_ way—

"Miroku-sama, you're drooling," said his pretty companion, waving a hand in front of his face. "Are you okay?" 

"He's probably thinking about _girls_ again," said Shippou with an annoyed grin, sticking out his tongue at Miroku.

Miroku raised an eyebrow. "Shippou?" he asked with false sweetness.

__

Stupid Inuyasha for not taking the little brat—

"Whaa?" whined Shippou.

Miroku cocked his head. _Children_. "_Wha_?" he inquired, confused.

"Wha wha?" replied Shippou mischievously, pawing at Miroku's robes.

Oh, for... _I'm_ not _going_ _to_ _stoop_ _to_—

"Wha wha wha?" grinned Miroku, picking the little kitsune up by his bushy tail.

"Wha infinity!" giggled Shippou, wriggling his little feet. He bounced and playfully kicked Miroku's shin.

"Wha infinity plus one!" Miroku nodded triumphantly. "Ha!" 

Kagome smiled to herself. Shippou circled her legs, thinking for a moment. Miroku waited patiently.

"Wha infinity plus infinity!" shouted Shippou suddenly, his little eyes sparkling. "Double ha!"

Kagome giggled, and knelt down to muss up Shippou's hair.

Miroku tried not to peek, but it was so very hard. So instead, he shook his head good-naturedly and said, "That's enough. I forgot what we were talking about."

Shippou looked up at him, then launched himself at Kagome. He scurried up to her shoulder, and perched himself there for a moment. "So, _I _win," he raised his chin smugly.

Miroku stared at him. "Fair enough."

Unk.

__

I'm not going to compete with a child, I'm not going to—

Under his breath, Miroku added, "_Kid_."

Shippou jumped on his back, clamping his little hands around Miroku's neck. "I'm not a kid!" he screeched.

Kagome stopped walking and watched them curiously. Miroku resisted the urge to peel the little kitsune off.

__

Must. _Behave_.

While Kagome was watching, at least.

"Kagome says a kid is a baby goat!" Shippou beamed at Kagome. "And I am not now, nor have I ever been, related to a goat!" he babbled, wrapping his little fingers around Miroku's ponytail. "Uncle Marvin doesn't count, because he was adopted!"

Holy _Buddha_, thought Miroku, do I really want one of _these_?

A wicked grin curled his lips.

Hn.

It was the _process_, not the product.

Heh.

"Such good memory, Shippou-chan!" gushed Kagome, poking the tip of Shippou's nose. She pulled a shiny, dark wrapper from out of nowhere and handed it to the child.

Miroku looked at her.

She was insane.

Which, by his standards, meant she would be a good mother.

And... if the little kitsune kept hanging on him, Kagome would, too. 

And so, encouraged by this new discovery, Miroku, the delinquent monk, kept walking lightheartedly. At moments, he'd forget where exactly he was headed; mostly due to Shippou cutting off his circulation, but oftentimes because Kagome would look at him with an appreciative look in her eyes.

__

Mmm.

Finally, as the sun was beginning to caress the horizon, they reached a small hill. The view wasn't anything spectacular, but Miroku found himself admiring the muddy path that led to the old village.

A long, asymmetrical row of oddly slanted huts, puddles of mud as far as the eye could see, and a trail of dead trees. Miroku was home.

"It's... charming," said Kagome tactfully. Her nose was scrunched up.

"It's ugly," corrected Shippou. Kagome tugged on his ear.

Miroku grinned. "I suppose it's both," he said with a shrug, then pointed his staff north. "That's where we're headed."

Kagome squinted. "Is—is that a dead horse?"

He sighed. "Probably." And with a last glance at Kagome's little kimono, Miroku descended.

At the foot of the small hill, a group of women was tending a tiny rice field, their skin sweaty and their clothing practically nonexistent.

Gah. No.

__

No _looking_.

__

I'm here with Kagome.

__

Besides, knowing how Father was, I could potentially be related to half these girls.

Ick.

Miroku wrinkled his nose. Kagome watched him curiously.

And then—

"Ack! Demon!" someone shrieked.

Miroku closed his eyes and shook his head.

A small congregation of spinsters was gathering around them.

"Miroku-san, is that you?" asked one.

"Who's that with h—oh! _Indecent_!" another joined in after spotting Kagome.

"Demon!" a third repeated frantically. Shippou yelped and hid in Kagome's backpack. Miroku placed a comforting hand on Kagome.

Well, technically, on Kagome's behind.

Kagome huffed, then focused her attention on a particularly unfriendly woman. "Don't worry, Shippou-chan," she mumbled protectively to the little kitsune, "I think we can distract them with chocolate. They seem like the type."

Appeased, Shippou slowly climbed out of the backpack and onto Kagome's shoulder.

"Ladies," began Miroku patiently, "there is no need for alarm. Shippou is merely a harmless child. He could not hurt a fly even if he _wanted_ to. After all, he is devoid of hurtful qualities as he is only an _underdeveloped_ _little_ _cub_ and—"

Shippou pounced.

The spinsters screamed. 

Kagome sighed exasperatedly and pinched Miroku's ear. "You just had to egg him on, didn't you?"

Miroku grasped her hand in his and pulled her closer. "Trust me," he whispered in her hair. She stiffened in his embrace.

"Aww! So cute!" he heard one of the women say.

"He's mine!" shouted another, tugging on Shippou's tail.

Shippou froze, looking horrified.

Kagome glanced at Miroku, then at a poor, struggling Shippou, then back at Miroku.

Heh. _Admire_ _me_. Admire!

"You're insane," she breathed bewilderedly, untangling herself from his grasp.

Shippou was jumping from barrel to barrel, trying to avoid the crazy, clingy villagers. Kagome went to his rescue, but before she could reach him—

__

Splat.

Shippou slipped and fell, sinking into a puddle of mud. Everyone backed off. Shippou, his little eyes watery, slowly stood up and looked pleadingly at Kagome. Mud dripped off him, his face was completely dirty, and his tail was unrecognizable.

Um.

Kagome whimpered and quickly reached out to him, but—

"_Oooh_! He needs a BATH!" said one of the women, scooping up the dirty little kitsune. "I'll give him one!"

"No, _me_! I'll give him a bath!" screeched another.

"Me!" the third shouted, and in a dash, all were gone, carrying a frightened Shippou away.

Kagome blinked.

Ta-dah. _And that takes care of Shippou—_

"See?" asked Miroku as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. "It's just a matter of dealing with them properly."

Kagome smacked him.

OW. _What_?

"That's for not telling me your village was freakin' _crazy_!" she said, then stomped on his foot. "And that's for letting Shippou-chan get fox-napped!" Furiously, she launched herself at him, trying to slap whatever she could, but he caught her wrist just in time.

Mmm, _feisty_, he thought amusedly, then kissed her palm. Gentlemanly, of course.

She stared at him incredulously.

"He's going to be fine," Miroku assured her. "Perhaps slightly cleaner than usual, but perfectly fine," he grinned.

Kagome relaxed.

"So, they're not crazy?" she asked hesitatingly.

"I didn't say that," mumbled Miroku, then quickly segued into, "...time to meet Mother."

Kagome yelped, and stood rooted to her spot.

"I promise she's... less eccentric," said Miroku, pointing to a nearby structure. Its roof was low to the ground, but the entire thing looked oddly appealing with the sunset as its backdrop. Miroku sighed.

"Perhaps you ought to—" Strategy, Miroku, _strategy_. "—wait here temporarily while I inform Mother of our...eh..." Here, he paused for effect.

"Um," Kagome bit her bottom lip. "So. What exactly do I have to do?"

Ack. Don't ask _that_.

"Miroku-sama?" Kagome touched his shoulder slightly while he stood there, drooling. "What do you _want_ _me_ _to_ _do_?"

__

Doesn't _matter_. _As long as there are no clothes involved_.

"I—uhm, yes," he said so very articulately. "Nothing out of the ordinary, Kagome-sama," he mumbled finally, giving her hand a friendly pat.

Kagome eyed him warily.

"Only, please try to add an occasional declaration of love and devotion, and possibly, make sure to look at me as if I'm all you see," he told her, rubbing his chin in thought.

Kagome giggled. "Five hundred years from now, boys like you have their lunch money stolen on a daily basis, you know," she said, smiling beautifully. Her humor was lost on Miroku, but he was certainly appreciative of the way her lips curved slightly and the way her eyes—

Oh, for Buddha's sake!

"I'll only be a moment," said Miroku, flustered, and quickly disappeared into the hut.

And inside—

Thin cobwebs and dust, a faint scent of fresh bread, humble furnishings, and a dirt floor. _Home_.

And in the center of said home, stood Mother, concentrating very hard on sweeping.

She was a frumpy little thing, with bushy gray hair and countless wrinkles. And, strangely enough, he felt inexplicably happy to see her.

Miroku said nothing for a long while. He just stood there, waiting for her to notice him.

When she eventually did, her grip on the broom tightened, her knuckles turning white.

But—

"Miroku," she said as if she'd seen him just this morning and wasn't particularly thrilled by his presence.

"Mother," he replied in the same manner. And then, he faltered, and smiled sheepishly. "I—"

"—need something." She continued sweeping the floor, occasionally looking up at him.

__

Kuso.

"Now, Mother, you know I never ask for anything—" he began gently.

"Except when you do."

Miroku finally grinned, and draped an arm around his mother's shoulder. "I need a small favor. I promise this will be the last thing I ask of you."

"This month, you mean." Mother raised her eyebrows, then shook her head. "What is it this time? Is the temple after you for defiling the priestess?"

Miroku raised a hand to his heart, huffing. "I would never."

"No, of course not. Unless no one was looking," she paused, then poked his chest. "Is the local merchant missing his wares? And wives? And daughters?"

Miroku raised an amused eyebrow. "I brought someone," he said calmly.

Mother perked up. Then, with a quick glance at his rosary, shrugged. "Someone important?"

Suddenly feeling a bit self-conscious, Miroku clasped his hands behind his back, out of sight. "I need you to help me convince her."

Mother shook her head. "Convince her of what?"

Fine. If she wanted to act disinterested—

"Well, I may have accidentally blackmailed this girl into bearing me a son," he said as nonchalantly as possible.

Any second now—

A heart attack—

"That's nice," said Mother calmly, and continued to sweep the floor.

Miroku's shoulders slumped. "And I have, at most, four days to persuade her to choose me over someone else."

Mother paused, gripping the broom in contemplation.

Miroku waited.

"And what's in it for me?" she asked eventually.

Finally. Working on terms he was familiar with.

"Whatever you want," he said cautiously.

Bit of a risk, but...

Mother's eyes twinkled dangerously.

__

Oi.

Obviously, he'd just made a big mistake.

Backtrack, _backtrack_!

__

Perhaps it would be better to just forget this whole—

"What do I need to do?" asked Mother.

"Kagome-sama—that's her name—thinks you're a frail, old lady," Miroku heard himself saying. "She's under the impression you're not long for this world, and since I'm your only son," he paused, "your _cursed_ son—"

"Old?" Mother growled. "_Old_?" The broom was suddenly wedged between Miroku's palms as he blocked her attack. "I'll give you old!"

"—and she thinks you think she is my wife," Miroku ducked. "So, she's pretending and you need to be pretending and everything will," he dodged quickly, "work out fine!"

"OLD?"

"Um... Miroku-sama?" came a small voice. Kagome poked her little head in warily.

Relieved, Miroku pushed away from the broom, and quickly grabbed Kagome's hand, dragging her towards Mother.

The transformation was almost instantaneous. Mother's features softened, and though Miroku knew it was just an act, he was pleased.

Sort of.

"Oh! Daughter-in-law!" she screeched enthusiastically and launched herself at Kagome. "Miroku's told me all about you!"

The broom clattered to the floor.

Miroku cringed.

"Are you with child yet?" his mother continued happily, trying to pat Kagome's stomach.

Kagome was pale. And perhaps a little green. Hesitatingly, she glanced at Miroku.

Miroku coughed and averted his eyes to a nearby wall.

__

La _la_ _la, if I can't see it, it's not there_.

Kagome wobbled.

"Yes, yes, I can see the nausea trying to overwhelm you," Mother clapped her hands, then swooned melodramatically. "I will finally be a grandmother!" Here, she paused, spun around, and glared at Miroku. "I'm too young to be a grandmother!"

Eek.

Stick to the plan, damn it.

"I certainly agree," said a nervous voice. Miroku glanced at Kagome. She was scowling unhappily. "And I am... _sorry_," she lied, "but I am not—" here, she wrinkled her nose, "—with child."

"Yet!" Miroku added quickly. One, two, three steps later, he was glued to Kagome's side, his arm wrapped around her waist. Inconspicuously, Kagome tried to step on his foot. "That is to say, we've only been joined recently."

Kagome gaped at him like a trout.

"_Very_ recently," he mumbled.

Mother seemed to be considering this. Then, with an obviously fake smile, she ushered them in properly. She gave a particularly aggravating sort of cough for effect, and walked as if she needed a cane.

Hn. _Her acting's improved_. _Figures_.

Kagome was hastily seated, and Miroku glared pointedly at his mother.

Mother grumbled.

Miroku poked her fat stomach, furrowing his eyebrows.

__

Remember _the_ _deal_.

"Oh, very well!" she muttered nastily, then arranged her face into a sugar-sweet expression before turning to Kagome.

"I am so happy my Miroku's finally found someone," she cooed.

Miroku nodded with satisfaction and sat down, reaching for a pair of chopsticks. Kagome, on the other hand, seemed frozen to her spot. Helpfully, Miroku handed her a small bowl. She took it numbly.

__

Aw, _crap_.

He was going to feel bad now.

One, two, three.

All right.

Done with that.

"I was beginning to worry he would never find anyone who wouldn't mind..." Mother paused dramatically. An ominous smile played about her features. Miroku's eyes widened. "Especially considering..."

"_Considering_?" asked Kagome with interest.

Ueerk!

"Now, Mother, I don't think Kagome-sama needs to k—"

"Oh, no, no," interrupted Kagome gleefully, "I _want_ to know."

Mother tilted her head and observed Kagome for a long moment, then nodded as if she approved. "Yes, well, my little Miroku has a..."

"_Yes_...?" Kagome prompted anxiously.

Miroku rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. 

__

Kill. _Burn_. _Pillage_.

"Well, he's certainly _shown_ you by now," Mother arched a bushy eyebrow, sipping from her little bowl. "_Hasn't_ _he_?"

Kagome shook her head eagerly. "No, he hasn't, but I'm sure he _wanted_ to," she grinned. "It must have been an oversight on his part." Slowly, she turned her head towards Miroku. "Isn't that right, Miroku-_chan_?" she asked sweetly.

Miroku narrowed his eyes.

"I am grateful you are so understanding of his little... problem," Mother said artfully, fanning her plump face. Then, to Miroku's utter horror, she added, "Show her, Miroku."

Urp.

Kagome was staring at him with wide, curious eyes, looking as if she'd die if he didn't show her. Also—no!

No, no, no, _no_!

"I don't think this is appr—" he began.

"Show me," pouted Kagome.

__

I'll get back at you for this if it's the last thing I—

Obediently, Miroku tugged his robes lower, glaring at the floor.

"Aww! That's so cute!" he heard Kagome say, and then, her fingers were on him. Touching his little... spot.

"Apparently, Miroku, Kagome-sama doesn't seem to mind your shame," Mother commented amusedly.

Miroku gritted his teeth.

Kagome kept poking his forearm, where it met his shoulder. A small mark marred his skin there. It was scar-pink and embarrassing, but Kagome's fingers were lightly brushing over it, so—

"What happened?" she asked with interest.

Miroku stared at her, genuinely surprised.

"Oh, it was quite dishonorable, I assure you," Mother said flippantly, as if she were _trying_ to disgrace him in Kagome's eyes. "When Miroku was very young, he took after his idiot father and wandered off in search of... wealthier villagers."

Miroku grumbled.

"He would warn them of ominous clouds and some such, and then he'd—" Mother grimaced. 

"Rob them blind?" Kagome tilted her head, still staring intently at the mark.

"Why, yes. How did you—"

"Um, just a really good guess?" Kagome raised her eyebrows sheepishly.

Mother stared at her for a moment, then continued, "Unfortunately, he would also dally about if he saw a pretty girl."

Kagome snickered softly, her thumb gently circling Miroku's mark.

Miroku remained silent.

"However, one of these pretty girls had a very..."

"Overprotective," Miroku supplied with a sigh.

"Yes, a very overprotective father," nodded Mother. "One who had a special branding iron made specifically for Miroku."

Kagome winced.

"So, the next time Miroku went to visit the pretty girl, her father did—that," Mother finished, pointing carelessly at Miroku's forearm. "I suppose it suits him."

A little imprint of a hand, with a particularly humbling kanji, tarnished Miroku's skin.

Oddly enough, Kagome didn't seem as horrified as he expected any woman to be. After all, she now had actual proof he wasn't as... innocent as he presented himself.

"That must have hurt," she mumbled instead, refusing to meet his eyes.

"At least he's learned his lesson," said Mother in a clipped tone. "He doesn't go 'round warning villagers of ominous, dark clouds, and all that nonsense anymore, now, does he."

Eheh. Um.

Kagome shifted uncomfortably. Then, slowly, her expression changed. She drew her brows closer together as her lips formed a defiant pout. "No. No, he doesn't. He's helped so many villagers even _I've_ lost track, and he did so at the risk of his own life, and—and he never thinks twice, or complains, or... um..." she trailed off.

Miroku blinked.

Mother blinked twice.

Kagome slowly withdrew her fingers. She curled her hands in her lap and focused on an invisible spot on the ground, her cheeks flushed.

An awkward silence followed.

Crickets chirped.

"And, of course, there's the curse," added Mother casually, but didn't meet Miroku's eyes.

Sigh.

Working on it, Mother. Promise. Won't die.

"I know," Kagome bowed her head low, and glanced at Miroku. "But we'll find a way to lift it," she continued enthusiastically. "It's only a matter of time." 

Mother jerked her head up to observe Kagome. Miroku watched in silence.

"I hope so," Mother said distractedly. She glanced at Miroku one last time, then returned her attention to the girl.

"So, when were you wed?" she asked suddenly, looking at Kagome out of the corner of her eye. "I'm insulted no one invited me. After all, I only _gave_ _life_ _to_ _you_, Miroku."

"Oh, we weren't w—" began Kagome helpfully, but Miroku jumped up, and quickly covered her mouth with his hand.

"We weren't _thinking_ _properly_," corrected Miroku, swallowing a chuckle. Kagome's little tongue was poking his palm, and his other hand automatically slid to the small of her back. Kagome yelped, but couldn't move.

"We were... _swept up_ by the winds of passion," continued Miroku airily. Slowly, he removed his hand from Kagome's mouth. His other hand refused to move. "We saw each other, and knew in that very instant we wanted to be together forever. One does not stop to invite relatives when one is in love as deeply as Kagome-sama and I are."

Mother was gagging.

It must have been the rice.

__

It's always the rice._ Or possibly the sake_—

Kagome was staring at him, lips parted, eyes wide. 

Looking dazed, she leaned forward softly, tilting her head.

Her pretty lips were glistening and—

Yes! 

Finally!

She was entranced by his flowery speech.

She was going to kiss him. 

She was going to—

Die laughing?

__

Hn.

Miroku wrinkled his nose, offended.

"Son, I advise you aid your wife before she chokes to death. I would rather she not die." Mother was gathering the dishes, looking at Kagome amusedly. "I do not need that kind of reputation. I still haven't recovered from rumors about your grandfather's involvement with a man. Granted, man disguised as a woman, but man nonetheless..."

Miroku sighed. Then, he gripped Kagome by the shoulders, and tried to get her to look at him. She was still trembling with laughter, her face flushed, her hair a mess.

For the briefest of moments, Miroku found himself just watching her warmly.

Then, he shook his head, and raised an indifferent eyebrow.

Kagome calmed down, but was still grinning wildly. "I like your mom," she giggled. "Were you adopted?"

Miroku sighed deeply.

He stared at his rice bowl for a long moment, then suddenly perked up.

__

Eureka!

"So, Mother, I assume you have—_appropriate_ accommodations for us," he grinned, glancing wickedly at Kagome. Kagome, for her part, blanched horridly.

Mother bowed her head slightly, "Of course. Beyond the village well, there are accommodations for the newly wed," she recited dutifully.

Miroku all but rubbed his hands.

"Um, I don't mean to sound rude or anything," mumbled Kagome unsteadily, "but I really... _really_ wouldn't mind if we just stayed here."

Mother glanced at Miroku. "Yes, well, there just... isn't enough room here for three."

"That's okay!" said Kagome quickly, inching away from Miroku. "I can stay here with you, and Miroku-sama can sleep... somewhere else."

Miroku grumbled. "Dear _wife_, think how it will look for a husband to spend his _first_ wedded night alone."

Nudge, _nudge_, damn it.

Kagome was blushing furiously.

Mother, being _Miroku_'_s _mother, grinned evilly. "Now, now, son, do not pressure young Kagome. If it is indeed your first night as man and wife, it is possible there are certain duties she may feel she is not ready to... perform," she said casually.

Kagome all but burrowed into the ground, her cheeks flaming red.

Miroku cleared his throat uncomfortably.

All right. No way out of that one. 

So, he settled on, "I would never make Kagome-sama do anything she didn't want to do."

__

Except blackmail her into lying to several people, pretend she's married to me, abandon Inuyasha for a short period of time, come to my evil village, associate with my lunatic mother, etcetera, etcetera.

Burn in hell, you will, Miroku.

And still, despite all that, Kagome was keeping true to her word.

How... odd.

"What say you, child?" Mother turned to Kagome, looking at her almost affectionately. Miroku resisted the urge to roll his eyes. _Mothers_. 

"It is no shame thinking it inappropriate to spend the night alone with your husband in a strange village," she continued.

Gah! No!

Evil, no-good, useless—

"After all, you're still merely a child yourself and it would be perfectly acceptable."

Back-stabbing, traitorous—

"Although," Mother paused. "Your hesitance may bring dishonor to our honorable family," she continued despondently. "Our honorable, honorable family."

Kagome's shoulders slumped in defeat.

__

I love you, Mommy!

"Good night, Mother," Miroku all but cackled, grabbing Kagome and dashing towards the exit.

__

Victory! _Within_ _reach_!

Kagome whimpered.

.

.

.

.

.

****

Miroku: See? You're warming up to me.

****

Kagome: ...It's called _Stockholm_ _Syndrome_, evil monk.


	4. Mistake

****

Author's Note: Aww. You like Miroku. You really, really like him. He's so happy he could strip. Except, he's not going to. Because none of you have offered to bear him a son. Heathens!

Apologies for the delay. Was celebrating a few birthdays and feeling, what's the word... old? One day, I'm buying glitter, lollipops, and vanilla lipgloss, and the next, I'm fighting arthritis and sniffing Bengay. You suck, world.

.

.

.

****

Step **Three**

No one is listening until you make a mistake.

.

.

.

Appropriate accommodations.

The perfect conduit for _in_appropriate behavior. Come, see, take. Repeat if desired.

Miroku, who'd mentally plowed through a third of the first edition of Kamasutra, was running.

"She must be absolutely _convinced_," explained Miroku vaguely as he dragged Kagome across the village. "Mother, I mean." He skipped over a puddle of mud, and held out his hand.

"Miroku... san, she seemed pretty convinced to me," said Kagome sensibly, taking his hand. She scrunched up her nose, and planted her feet firmly on the ground. "I don't really think it's necessary for us to... to..." here, she paled adorably.

"Yes, Kagome-sama?" asked Miroku sweetly.

"To... um..."

Miroku arranged his face into a most innocent expression. "Why, Kagome, I am aware this is simply a ruse. I would never—"

Kagome narrowed her eyes.

"Fine," mumbled Miroku begrudgingly. "I'll sleep with my back to you. How's that?"

"What? No!" she shrieked, batting his hand away. "You'll sleep _outside_. Fully clothed. And away from me." She frowned thoughtfully. "I mean, I consider you a friend and I don't mind terribly helping you, but I do _not_ want that kind of reputation."

A _friend_?

"Technically, Kagome-sama," said Miroku with a slight frown, "the only reputation you have here is either that of my lovely wife, or a dog-demon's shard detector. If you were a local girl, Inuyasha would have been forced to marry you so you would not be burdened for the rest of your life with the shame of having stayed under the same roof with a man you were not wed to. _I_, at least, _publicly_ offered to make an honest woman out of you. So, of the two—"

Kagome's bottom lip trembled dangerously so Miroku quickly segued into, "—really, I'll behave."

Kagome gave a disdainful shrug, and pointed behind him tiredly. "Is that it?"

Miroku watched her curiously for a second longer, then turned around. "Unfortunately," he said under his breath.

The Inn looked dilapidated and was surrounded by a collection of dead trees. The moon hung low just over its rooftop, and an ugly orchard loomed behind.

"If I get bitten by anything, I'm going home," grumbled Kagome as she poked her head in.

It took Miroku a long moment to realize she probably _wasn't_ referring to him.

He followed her inside, concentrating on her bare legs rather than the persistent scent of smoke and hay.

A faint clicking sound reached them, and Kagome stopped. Instinctively, Miroku grabbed her arm. She nodded and let him go ahead.

Miroku glanced around.

__

Too _quiet_. _Too_—

The clicking grew louder. Miroku took another step forward and peeked behind a large haystack. There, leaning against a wall, was the innkeeper, sharpening a wooden stick.

He was a large, old man, with a double chin and very little hair. Miroku cringed.

__

Since _when_ _was_—?

"Noda-san," he mumbled with distaste, unconsciously pushing Kagome behind him. Irritated, he cleared his throat, and gripped his golden staff. "Noda!"

The innkeeper jumped up, throwing the stick blindly towards Miroku. With an effortless wave of his staff (_go_ _me_!), Miroku deflected the impromptu attack. Noda, the innkeeper, blinked, then laughed boisterously. "Monk!" 

Miroku nodded and bowed. "Noda-san. I wasn't aware you'd... taken over this residence."

And also, _damn_ _it_!

Noda shrugged. "Yes, well, long time no s—_hello_," he trailed off as Kagome timidly peeked behind Miroku's shoulder. The innkeeper grinned maliciously. "Why, houshi, you shouldn't have!"

Oi.

Miroku was about to reply (and possibly use his Kazaana) when—

"Shouldn't have what?" asked Kagome guilelessly.

Noda raised a thick eyebrow. "Shouldn't have brought me a present," he said with a leer. "But I'll certainly take it."

Kagome blinked.

"He means you," Miroku told her calmly.

"I must admit, I never thought you'd bring me anything this pretty. I'm not complaining, mind you. After all, I did practically raise you after your father's death and—"

"Kagome-sama is my _wife_, Innkeeper. You ought to treat her as such."

"Wife?" Noda blinked.

"Yes."

"_Yours_?"

"Of course."

"_Married_?"

"Obviously."

"To _you_?"

"Argh! Yes!" screamed Kagome suddenly, covering her ears. "I'm married to him, he's married to me. You could even say we're married _together_," she huffed, frustrated.

Miroku grinned with satisfaction.

Noda cocked his head suspiciously and stared.

Kagome shifted uncomfortably. 

Promptly, she faltered under the old bastard's scrutinizing stare and mumbled unconvincingly, "—That is to say, Miroku is...um... And we... eek."

Sigh.

Kagome grumbled, then leveled her gaze on the innkeeper determinedly. "I..." she struggled, "_love_ _him_?" she scrunched up her face. Mild disgust flitted across her features.

Double sigh.

The innkeeper raised a skeptical eyebrow.

A moment of silence passed. 

Floorboards creaked.

A candle went out.

Kagome fidgeted with her sleeve for a long moment, then looked up, ruffled. "Really! I... I _do_!" she nodded, clenching her fists.

Noda tapped his fingers disinterestedly, judging and ogling and tempting Miroku to rip off his protective beads.

"Oh, for—" grumbled Kagome suddenly. And then—

Her little hand slipped in Miroku's.

Warm. Small.

Symbolic?

She looked up at him with a mortified expression, then quickly kissed his cheek, not meeting his eyes.

Miroku stared. And stared. Then stared some more.

__

Knees _weak_... _can't concentrate_... _must_ _have_ _her_... _now_.

He felt her trying to wriggle her hand away from his, so he held it tighter. She, in turn, looked up at him questioningly. Her cheeks were flushed. 

They stood there, and to a casual observer, it might have seemed as if they were truly interested in each other.

Miroku blinked.

Except, no.

Improved acting ability, that was all. Kagome was, after all, under the impression she was helping this delinquent monk.

Such kindness. Such heart. Such—

Since he was an honor-bound man, righteous and noble, Miroku _had_ to find a way to repay her. He had a _code_, after all.

But... how to redeem his selfishness? How to practice reciprocity? 

How to—

Miroku kissed her.

Truly and really kissed her. He pressed his lips to hers, noting with some part of his brain that was still (miraculously) receiving oxygen, that this was a _phenomenal_ way to pay back his debts. And also, he was a generous man. So, he would pay her back with interest.

He dropped her little hand, and backed her into a wall. His fingers automatically cupped her face hungrily, one knee wedging itself between her legs. She was soft and warm and so inviting his brain hurt. He closed his eyes as his lips brushed across hers, tongue darting out to lick the corner of her mouth.

__

Incoherent... _happy_... _more_.

Urgently, he slid his hands lower, down over her shoulders, past her little necktie, and dug his fingers into her waist. She whimpered against his lips, and he loosened his grip.

__

Robes _constraining_, _must_ _dispose_—

Oww!

He tore his mouth away, breathing heavily, and blinked at Kagome. "You kicked me!"

"Well, _you_—UGH," she shouted, her cheeks impossibly pink. She dug her nails into his arm, and looked up at him through narrowed eyes. "That was my first—" she grit out quietly. "I hate you," she whispered menacingly, then looked over at Noda, with a kind of determined air about her. "Miroku-_chan_," she recited numbly, "I fear your public... displays of affection are quite inappropriate."

"That's my boy!" grinned Noda.

Miroku suddenly felt nauseous.

"I'd love to offer you two proper accommodations—before you consummate your wedlock on my floor—however..." said Noda dramatically. "I have no vacancies left."

Miroku noted Kagome was still holding onto him for support. Momentarily distracted, he watched Noda scratch his fat chin, then said, "Noda. There's _no_ _one_ here. The Inn is _empty_."

"Well, yes," replied Noda, "but I keep all my precious artifacts in most every room—"

"—he means stolen crap," Miroku translated for Kagome. Kagome pointedly ignored him, prying his fingers off her.

Why? _Why_ was she upset? That was a good kiss, damn it.

"Regardless," interrupted Noda lazily, "I have no room."

Miroku raised a challenging eyebrow.

__

Wait _for_ _it_...

"_However_," beamed Noda, "I might feel inclined to find something for you, Miroku. You know I consider you the son I never had."

"Noda, you _have_ a son. Two, in fact," sighed Miroku, then decided logic was futile.

Suddenly, a quiet voice broke into the conversation. "What do we need to do?" asked Kagome, straightening out her little kimono.

Heh. So, she _does_ learn fast.

Noda all but split his face grinning. "Why... nothing at all. Nothing of great importance, anyway. I have this little problem—"

"The village priestess should have an ointment for that," mumbled Kagome.

Miroku cracked a smile.

Noda observed her curiously, then continued as if she never spoke, "—and it's really costing me. There's this demon, keeps coming 'round—"

"_Absolutely_ _not_."

"I'll give you the _special_ _room_," Noda waggled his eyebrows.

Miroku had no recollection of a special room, but his eyes glazed over nonetheless.

Noda grinned victoriously. "Little bugger's out back in the orchard. Follow me," he said happily, and set off down a long, dark corridor.

Kagome sighed, then reluctantly began following the innkeeper.

Miroku watched her as he retrieved his golden staff.

Sigh.

__

Why?

Why was he doing this?

His fingers reached out, and wrapped themselves around Kagome's.

"Can you ever forgive me?" he whispered thoughtfully.

Her eyes softened for a moment—

"Only in public, Miroku-sama," she snapped, then marched on ahead of him.

A chuckle tickled his throat.

They caught up to Noda effortlessly. The corridor widened into a dry orchard. Barrels and muddy logs littered the ground. Noda skipped over them. "This way!" he waved.

Miroku stood rooted to the ground.

Kagome looked over her shoulder at him. She stopped, turned, put her hands on her hips and glared at him with annoyance. "If you'd like to come with me, oh, noble monk?"

__

Come _with_ _you_.

Smirking, Miroku opened his mouth—

No. Too easy.

So, he just followed her quietly, pondering important questions, such as why was she so upset with him? And how could she not think that was a good kiss? And why did he get the feeling she missed Inuyasha and—

Suddenly sullen, Miroku stopped. He looked around, and frowned.

"Good luck," he heard Noda say before the old bastard ran away.

The demon.

Ugly little thing, it was, with scaly limbs and a feathered backside. But it didn't look particularly threatening, sitting there, sniffing the ground and pawing at a tree, so Miroku glanced at Kagome.

"Stay back," he said valiantly.

"No," she pouted. "Maybe I'll be lucky and get killed."

Miroku resisted the urge to rub his poor temples. The demon looked up at him and hissed like a kitten. "Who are you?"

Hn.

"I am Miroku, a mere monk, at your service," he said amiably. The demon blinked its five eyes and cocked its big head.

"I'm going to rip off your head and use your lungs for a pillow," it said, saliva dripping off its fangs.

Miroku glanced at Kagome. Kagome glanced at Miroku.

"So, Kagome-sama... you won't mind terribly if I assume he's not a particularly friendly demon?" he asked flippantly.

__

Notice _my_ _levelheadedness_.

Impress, lure, impress, _impress_.

Kagome stared at him incredulously, but replied calmly nonetheless. "I—I think the stench was a dead giveaway. Friendly demons tend to bathe. Unless it's every other Tuesday."

The demon watched them, confusion etching itself unto its scaly features.

Miroku slowly tugged at his rosary.

__

No _rush_. Small demon, easy.

Also, Kagome? Pretty, when high on adrenaline. 

Her bushy hair was curling around her, eyes wide and eager. And, of course, her little kimono was fighting a losing battle with the breeze.

Gah! _Fine_.

Defeat demon—fast. Set new record. Then, run like the wind and mount—

Uerk.

Been itching for a fight anyway. _More_ _than_ _one_ _way_ _to_ _relieve_ _tension_, Miroku mused.

"And, oh! They're cuter, too," Kagome added helpfully, hanging off his shoulder. "And... they usually don't have jewel shards."

"_What_? Are you sure, Kagome?"

The creature took a cautious step backward. Its eyes rolled back, and a dark tail poked out.

Feh. Scare tactics. Seen better.

Besides, _impress_.

"I will—" it began menacingly.

"Yes, you'll tear off our limbs and beat us with the wet end," said Miroku, raising his hand. "And then you'll inflict upon us excruciating torture even our ancestors will feel," he continued, pushing Kagome behind him. "Fillet our brains, slash our blah blah blah. We—"

"—know," finished Kagome with a haughty nod.

A small grin escaped Miroku's lips.

"Am I getting too predictable for you, _dear_ _wife_?" he raised an amused eyebrow and waited for her to kick him again. He was already getting used to the various assortment of slaps, blows (though, obviously, not the ones he was partial to), and punches. What was one more?

Unfortunately, Kagome selfishly kept her hands to herself. "Pfft. Showoff," she mumbled melodramatically, crossing her arms over her chest. "They never just attack, do they? It's always, 'Ooh, I'm spawn of evil!' and 'Shards! My preciousss!" and 'Die, despicable humans, die!'"

Miroku nodded vehemently, hand poised. "If they'd only ask _nicely_, we might even consider sharing the shards," he sighed pretentiously.

Kagome nodded sagely. "Or, if they'd at least _lie_ to us and say they wanted to use the jewel for good. Something, _anything_."

"Bartering would certainly work. I'm in need of new robes."

"Indeed. What a truly barbaric world we live in—well, some of us more so than others."

"Absolutely."

"Yes."

"I think so, too."

The creature slithered back, watching them with wary eyes. Its tail slapped against the ground impatiently.

Kagome leaned in closer, clutching the shiny pendant around her neck. "Okay. Only one shard. In its... neck? Erm. _Is_ that a neck?" she whispered.

"Depends. Where am I looking at?" Miroku squinted, aiming carefully.

"Just below its... um, is that a jaw?"

Miroku couldn't help it.

He laughed. Loudly.

Fighting demons had never been this—

"Oh, oh, _uh_!" Kagome suddenly whimpered. Miroku glanced at her worriedly.

Why was she—

"That's not a neck," she mumbled.

—blushing?

"It's his... urm... well, at least we know it's a _he_," she finished, scuffing her toe in the dirt, her face flushed.

Miroku laughed again.

"Kagome-sama, remind me to—"

A sudden blow to his chest distracted him from finishing his thought. The creature had pounced, and was now circling them cautiously, upsweeping dirt and dust and—

"Kagome-sama!"

Nothing.

Kuso.

__

Where is _she_?

His eyes stung, but he could _feel_ the demon coming closer, unsheathing its claws. There, to the left. Closer, _closer_. Miroku spun around, crouched low, and swung his staff blindly. He'd always been lucky, and tonight was no exception. A soft thud echoed in the silence, and Miroku struck again.

The dust finally cleared. And—

Miroku blinked. There, at his feet, was the demon's tail. _Just_ its tail. As for the demon—

"Um," said Kagome sheepishly. "That'll teach us to make fun of them?" she finished nervously from her spot in the demon's clutches.

Miroku froze. That...

...stupid girl!

"How do you get yourself _in_ these situations?" he grumbled, watching the demon growl and tighten his grip on Kagome.

"I think it has something to do with my horoscope. This hasn't been a good year for me at all," replied Kagome, squirming, as one sharp claw slowly cut across her cheek.

Miroku winced. _Definitely stupid_. Cautiously, he took a step forward, making a show of dropping his staff. "That was a rhetorical question," he shot her a glare. "Who answers rhetorical questions?"

"Um... was that another one?" squeaked Kagome. "Am I supposed to answer now—"

The creature twitched and scratched at Kagome's waist. Miroku's knuckles turned white. _I'm going_ _to_ _kill_ _her_, _then_ _the_ _demon_, _then_ _her_ _again_. _And_ _after_ _that_, _I'm possibly_ _going_ _to_ kill _her_.

"Shards," hissed the demon, pawing at Kagome's neck. Kagome squirmed and whimpered and kicked, but remained trapped.

"Take the shards," said Miroku amicably, taking another step closer. The creature eyed him warily. "Look, I'll even help you."

One step, two steps, three. _There_. Kagome stiffened, staring at him questioningly. _Trust_ _me_, he wanted to say, but reached for her necklace instead. With a quick tug, the thin line snapped in his hand. The shards glittered in the moonlight. For a tiny moment, Miroku was utterly and completely distracted.

"Now...." he whispered tactfully. "You let her go and I'll—"

"Umpf!" was all Kagome could say as she flew through the air. The demon flung her aside and grabbed for the small, shiny shards. Miroku wrapped his fingers around the pendant tightly, and pushed at the demon. With practiced ease, he tore off his protective beads and—

That was it, then.

Miroku 136, Demons 0.

He wrapped his fingers around the new shard, and winced as an annoying sort of cramp rushed through his hand, then quickly looked around. Kagome was curled up on the ground, massaging her bleeding cheek. Slowly, Miroku headed her way, pulling his sleeve back down. He knelt on the ground next to her, and gently tilted his head.

"Are you—"

"You—ugh—urgk!" grumbled Kagome dangerously, searching the ground for her shards. "You almost got us killed!"

Miroku gaped stupidly. "No, YOU almost got us killed."

Why? _Why_ wasn't she grateful like a proper girl?

Kagome gritted her teeth. "Guh! What's wrong with you? Reconstructive memory? Selective amnesia?" she growled, her little hands shaking. Then, her bottom lip curled with a whimper. "And just look at your chest! You're all bloody and—"

What was she talking about? There was nothing wrong with his chest. Did she hit her head? Did she—

__

Better tell her I'm fine before she—

"—you idiotic... idiot," she finished, then flung herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck.

Well, then. Keeping mouth shut, check.

And so, Miroku hugged her back. She slipped into his embrace, and practically snuggled into his lap.

Hey there, Miroku's hands. Perfect opportunity for you to—

Huh.

Look at that. Hands in socially acceptable position. No desire to move. Oddly... satisfying.

Oddly _disturbing_.

Must fix moment of weakness. Must—

"Miroku!" someone shouted. Miroku noted with surprise that it wasn't Kagome.

Unfortunately, it was someone much, much worse.

Noda, the innkeeper.

Miroku sighed and let Kagome get up. The village of doom _was_ gathering around them, after all.

"Hey, everyone!" Noda was shouting to a group of groggy villagers who'd only just now begun to make their way towards the orchard. "Miroku-sama defeated the baby demon!"

Kagome pouted. "Hey, _I_ helped, t—" here, her eyes widened. "_Baby_ demon?"

__

Baby demon!?

Noda! That no-good, rotten son of a—

"Aye, we get our share of nurslings," said a sleepy old man, pointing his rickety cane north. "Their mama visits us often, she does. Brings good luck to our crops, you know. A nice bunch, really."

"Their... _what_?" Kagome tugged at Miroku's robes.

Miroku calmed himself. Then, slowly, he narrowed his eyes and—

"Noda-san?" he grit out.

The Noda in question poked his head behind a crowd of chattering women. "Urm. Yes, son?" he asked innocently.

"This baby demon I ... _we_ just disposed of—" Miroku began rationally.

"You made us kill a baby demon! And now its mother's going to chop off our heads and feed them to the rest of her babies!" Kagome shrieked, grabbing Miroku's hand.

What the—

"How do you get this thing off?" she asked, tugging at his sleeved palm. "It doesn't look as complicated when you do it," she whined, trying to break the seal on the back of his palm.

Miroku watched her strangely. No one had ever gotten that close to his—

"Whaa?" said a little boy suddenly. He rubbed his eyes, yawned, then squinted at the dead demon's tail, which was simmering quietly in the background. His bushy eyebrows shot upwards as he rasped, "Where's the rest of Fuzzy?" A woman whispered something in his ear. "Oh," said the little boy. "Well, _that_'s not good."

Miroku glared.

The tail simmered some more.

__

Fuzzy, surprisingly, smelled like chicken.

"But if Fuzzy is dead," said the little boy distractedly, "won't his mother be upset?" Another woman whispered something in his ear. "So... we're all going to _die_?"

The villagers nodded their heads. The little boy burst into tears.

Miroku wondered if Buddha frowned on murder/suicides if the cause was extremely justified.

Suddenly, Kagome's fingers wrapped around his forearm. He looked down at her. "Oh!" she whispered enthusiastically. "I love you!" she said, eyes dancing.

What. In. The. Name. Of...?

"You would be so useful in the 20th century," she prattled on obliviously. "Can't charge someone with a crime if there's no evidence," she clapped her hands.

Miroku blinked. Then blinked some more.

"Wonderful! Okay!" she mumbled, pointing at the still-twitching tail. "Just get rid of that, and no one ever need know," she nodded, her hair flying wildly.

Miroku cocked his head. "I think its mother might notice him missing."

"Possibly," agreed Kagome, "but how will she know to look _here_?"

Miroku opened his mouth to reply—

"Poor Fuzzy!" wailed the little boy. A man picked him up, and patted his back. "He was always so nice!"

"Well, he obviously wasn't very nice if they had to kill him, now was he?" Noda shook his fist, then coughed, clearing his throat apologetically. "Besides, it was stealing all my sugar. Sugar's high-priced around here. Two goats and a barrel of rainwater for one bag." He turned to Miroku as if he'd understand. "_One_ _bag_, Miroku."

Miroku just stared.

Kagome joined him.

Kill faster, _kill_ _faster_.

Noda sweat-dropped. "Eheh. Now, uh, I do realize its parents might come looking here first as I've sort of hinted at killing Fuzzy before, what with the sticks and the fire—"

"Parents! As in more than _one_?" shrieked Kagome, clutching to Miroku's robes.

Miroku unwrapped his beads again.

"—so I'm willing to compensate you for any pains that may occur in the... very near future, such as funeral costs and, ack, Miroku-san, _no_!"

Noda ducked and covered his head. The villagers parted to allow Miroku better aim. Miroku's palm itched.

"Go on already!" shouted a raspy voice. "Get the bugger!"

Kuso, plus infinity. And one.

"_Mother_," said Miroku grumpily, searching for her face in the crowd.

"You _should_," said Mother, shaking her fist. "What kind of damn fool tells you to murder a defenseless nursling? Eh? Eh? Our _patron_'s defenseless nursling?"

"_Defen_—" Miroku began incredulously.

"Aye, Kagome? _You_ agree with your new mother, do you not?" continued Mother.

"I, uh... guess so?" Kagome mumbled uncomfortably.

"And what kind of damn fool actually _listens_?" Noda shouted back. The villagers sighed and slowly scampered off to their respective abodes, leaving the four alone. For a moment, Miroku could have sworn he'd heard Shippou's voice somewhere in the distance, muted and pleading for mercy, but dismissed it. There were more important things to take care of.

Like, murdering his dysfunctional family, bedding Kagome, and finally finishing a decent meal.

Not necessarily in that order.

OW!

Kagome had pinched his arm. Of course. _Now_ she was all aggressive. She glared at him silently, so Miroku just looked at the ground as if it would miraculously help him.

"Well, of course she's going to agree with you, you old hag! She's obviously feeble-minded if she married your delinquent son! Therefore, her opinion matters not!" said Noda as Miroku plopped to the ground with a deep, long sigh.

__

Naraku, _you_ _cruel_ _bastard_. _You_ _should've_ _just_ _made_ _Grandfather_ _impotent_.

"Outrage!" shouted Mother, grabbing a clump of dirt and dead grass. "You dare insult my new daughter! Perish, vile man!"

And the mud flew.

Excellent.

All that was missing now was another, 'I told you so' lecture from Kagome.

Kagome.

Argh!

It was all her fault. Yes. If she hadn't been all smiles and, well... _breasts_ when he'd met her, he wouldn't have felt compelled to tag along, and he wouldn't have put himself in this kind of situation. If it hadn't been for her stupid little kimono, he wouldn't have lied to Inuyasha (thus effectively shortening his life-span), and he wouldn't have been distracted around that bastard Noda, and he _definitively_ wouldn't have killed a patron demon's offspring and—

__

I should hate _her_. In fact, yes.

He hated her.

Inuyasha had been right. Higurashi Kagome was nothing but trouble. Danger-magnet. Clumsy, generally useless, whiny and—

She was smiling at him.

—and he wanted her. So. Much.

Arghghgh!

She gave him a friendly pat on the back as she gracefully sat down next to him, clutching the shards to her chest.

"Take that back, you disgusting bastard," Mother shouted somewhere in the distance.

"Make me, _hag_!" Noda shouted back.

Miroku tried not to whimper. Kagome giggled wildly.

"That could be us in... ninety years—" she said. "Well... provided we don't die in the next three days." A wicked, playful grin spread across her features. "_Dearest husband_," she added airily, giggling, then rolled over on her side, her laughter echoing amidst mud slinging and hoarse curses.

Miroku scowled.

Suddenly, celibacy didn't seem quite as _un_appealing.

.

.

.

.

.

****

Kagome: Eek! I stopped paying attention for just a one second. How the heck did that demon-plot sneak in?

****

Miroku: ...I didn't want a _plot_. I wanted a _room_.

****

Kagome: Yes, but see, we'll be sharing a bed in the next chapter, so I suppose I need to see you grow emotionally. We must peel you like an onion; shed the layers of your terrible upbringing whereby you've learned only of shallow, materialistic, superficial—

****

Miroku: ...Don't try to change me, woman.


	5. Air

****

Author's Note: Those of you now offering to bear Miroku's child—Miroku is grateful, but apparently, he fell in love with some Kagome chick. Go figure. _Men_.

Also, Iseult, I think I love you. ^_^ I'd have Miroku grope you, but, you know.

For those of you asking about that Sesshoumaru Versus Mistletoe "manga", sorry. I think that thing only makes sense to, like, two people, and both of them are schizophrenic. -_-

****

Mild Warning: Miroku, Kagome, bed. You do the math. Shield your innocent little eyes. Or, you know, don't.

Perverts.

.

.

.

****

Step **Four**

Sex is like air. It's not important unless you aren't getting any.

.

.

.

Miroku was in good spirits.

He'd just successfully bedded Kagome, defeated Naraku, solved world hunger, became profoundly rich, and managed to bring peace to the northern lands.

Of course, all of this happened only in his head.

In reality, he was sitting on the cold, hard ground, staring at a blushing Kagome. She was rummaging through her backpack, rambling about medicine and, apparently, unicorns.

He wasn't paying attention.

He was, after all, in the _special_ _room_. It was very small and very dark, and he liked it.

"Kaede-baachan gave me this," Kagome was saying, trying her best to avoid his gaze. Gingerly, she handed him a clay jar full of—

"What demon's intestine did _this_ come from?" he asked, disgusted. The jar was brimming with a creamy, green goo. It had no scent, but just looking at it made Miroku nauseous.

Kagome wrinkled her nose. "Kaede-baachan says it heals injur—"

"Kaede also sips from the sake bottle before handing out advice," interrupted Miroku childishly.

Kagome seemed apprehensive, but her eyes were sparkling merrily. "I trust her," she said, "so I'm putting it on." Defiantly, she dipped a finger into the jar and rubbed a small amount of the pasty substance over a tiny cut on her hand.

Ew.

And, _oh_.

Miroku watched her scrunch up her little nose as she repeatedly poked the goo. 

In, out, in, out.

__

Esrsjk.

Experimentally, he dipped a finger, and brought it to his nose. _Oh_, _well_, he thought, _I've_ _touched_ _worse_.

"It's not so bad," said Kagome cheerfully. "Doesn't even sting! Where was Kaede when that evil school nurse was practically bathing me in iodine?" she grumbled vengefully.

"School nurse?" Miroku raised an intrigued eyebrow.

Kagome grinned mischievously, tracing little circles over a scrape on her knee. "She wasn't pretty, Miro-kun," she said evilly, "so, you can just forget about _that_ fantasy, mister."

Miroku wasn't listening.

Though, in all fairness, it wasn't exactly his fault. To listen, he needed to use his brain. To use his brain, he needed to supply it with oxygen. To supply it with oxygen, he needed blood to circulate. Unfortunately, Miroku's blood was rushing in the opposite direction.

Because Miroku had finally confirmed one of his theories.

Yes, Higurashi Kagome was obsessed with silk.

Indeed, as he was sat opposite her on the ground (and she'd shifted to reach for the jar again), he could certainly see it. And see it in such wonderful detail. They were blue, her undergarments, they were. With little smiling kittens. Cute kittens. Evil kittens.

He wanted to touch them. Yes. He _would_ touch them. He would just lean in closer, stretch out his fingers and touch, touch, _touch_. He wanted to, he _needed_ to. He _would_. The kitties were begging him to. They were.

"Still," Kagome's whisper reached his ears, "I guess I wouldn't mind seeing her again. Seeing any of them again."

What did she say? Was it something important? Why—how—

__

Central _nervous_ _system_ _clamoring_ _for_ _blood_... _blood_ _obeying_... _urge_ _to_ _pounce_ decreasing.

Uk!

How dare she distract him from groping!

"I just miss my friends, I guess," she shrugged, feigning indifference. "Sometimes, they're complete idiots, but they really care about me, you know. They—" she trailed off apologetically, cheeks pink. "Sorry. I'm whining again."

Miroku blinked.

She'd shifted back. Sigh. SIGH.

__

Good bye, precious kittens. _It_ _was_ _a_ _joy_ _spending_ _time_ _in_ _your_ _company_.

"_Kagome-sama_," he looked up, pasting a scholarly expression on his face. "You're not whining, you're talking. There's a difference."

"But Inuyasha says—" she began, then flushed. "You're right," she mumbled. She crossed her arms over her chest and scowled. "I have a right to talk. I can talk all I want."

"Of course," nodded Miroku thoughtfully. "So. Are they cute?"

Kagome blinked.

"Your friends. Are they cute?"

Kagome gave him a glare.

Miroku grinned. "I only ask because I'm a visual person, and when you talk about them, I need to—"

"They're... not your type," she said protectively, eyebrows drawn together in concentration.

"So, they're ugly," he sighed melodramatically, shoulders slumping.

Ow, ow, OW!

"Idiot!" screeched Kagome, punching his forearm violently.

"I meant no disrespect," he apologized, trying not to leer past her little red necktie. "I'm sure they're wonderful... _kind_ girls."

Yep. Definitely ugly.

Kagome stuck out her bottom lip and ignored him. "You're worse than Inuyasha," she sulked. "Sure, _he_ doesn't ask about anything I actually care about, but at least he doesn't..." she paused suddenly.

Miroku watched her in silence.

"...why _doesn't_ he ask?" she mumbled thoughtfully, rubbing her knee. She looked no older than five with that hurt expression on her face, and even Miroku couldn't bring himself to consider her desirable.

Fine. He could. But it made him feel uneasy and troubled.

For perhaps a minute or so.

"I mean, _Hojou_-_kun_ asks me about everything. And I mean, _everything_," she explained, twisting her fingers nervously.

Miroku nodded sympathetically.

Yes, that—

__

Wait _a_ _minute_.

"Who's... this Hojou-kun?" Miroku asked casually, feigning disinterest. "You've... never mentioned him before."

Kagome gave him a scathing look. "Well, that's because nobody ever asks anything about me. It's always, 'Kagome, do you sense any shards?' or, 'Did you bring the Ramen?' so why should I tell you guys anything?"

"So... who is he?" persisted Miroku coolly.

Kagome glanced at him, perplexed. Then she blushed prettily, and stared at the ground. "Just a boy I know."

Hn.

__

She's feeling under-appreciated and lonely and vulnerable right now, thought Miroku observantly. _I probably shouldn't antagonize her further_—

"Is he your intended?" he asked, deciding not to squash the petty undertone in his voice.

Kagome blinked. "My what?" She seemed confused for a moment, then giggled. "Oh!" She shook her head, amused. "No! It doesn't really work that way in the 20th century."

"Then how does it work?"

Miroku found himself genuinely intrigued.

Kagome watched him distrustfully for a long moment, then perked up considerably. "Oh!" she said excitedly. "You wouldn't believe me even if I told you."

"Try me," he grinned, watching her practically bounce before him.

"Well, there's coffee and ice cream and notes during class!" she babbled and Miroku instantly regretted asking. That is, until she smiled brilliantly, and said in a happy, trusting voice, "—and then we compare, and are basically left to our own devices, trying to find out if he's right for us." She reached for her backpack again, and rummaged around until she produced a bar of chocolate.

She handed him a piece without him having to ask, and continued. "And sometimes, we stay after school... well, I—I can't anymore because I have to be _here_, but... in general, I suppose..." she trailed off, looking at the chocolate anxiously. Her gaze dropped to the floor again.

__

She _misses_ _them_.

Feeling oddly guilty, Miroku smiled reassuringly. "So, this Hojou," he said, finishing his piece of chocolate as he reached for the clay jar. "Have you 'found out if he's right for you' yet?"

She paused, then smiled wistfully. "I don't know. I'm too young."

Miroku resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

Silly Kagome.

"Besides, he's too... too," she paused. "He's not—" she struggled, looking at her fingers. "I'll _know_ when I meet the right guy," she said eventually, taking a bite of chocolate.

Miroku tried not to look so offended.

"He'll have to be like... like..." she mused, then brightened. "Like this piece of chocolate!"

Miroku inclined his head curiously.

"Yeah," nodded Kagome attentively, "_exactly_ like this piece of chocolate."

A small smile tugged his lips upwards. Gently, he dipped his thumb into the sticky green goo, then brushed it across the cut on her cheek. She didn't seem to notice. She held up the piece of chocolate higher, as if showcasing it.

"Sweet and..." she began, then scrunched up her nose, searching for the appropriate analogy.

"Rich?" Miroku raised an amused eyebrow.

Kagome shot him a death glare. "I was going to say... um... crunchy?"

"You want a man who is crunchy?" Miroku grinned playfully, then caught her hand, inspecting the various cuts and scratches. "One that's hard but melts in your mouth?" he asked innocently.

Kagome blushed a dozen shades of red. "Pervert."

"You started it," he shrugged, but the grin wouldn't leave his lips. His fingers trailed a path on her skin, a slow, sticky caress as his fingers slid up her arm. He pushed her sleeve up, and waited for her to, well, kill him.

"Fine," she mumbled, "so maybe the chocolate analogy wasn't exactly—"

"Sane?"

"I was going to say perfect," she said in an irritated voice, but he caught the small grin playing about her lips. "You need to stop trying to finish my—"

"—sentences," he chuckled and promptly ducked as she swung the jar at him.

Amused, he waggled his eyebrows, and, since he was already in the right position, Miroku decided to grab her ankle. Kagome yelped and tried to kick him off.

"Kagome-sama!" he defended innocently, "I'm simply trying to tend to your injuries!"

Kagome scoffed. "I don't have any on my—" her gaze slipped to her legs, "—eek!"

A long, shallow cut marred her skin, and she whimpered at the sight. She dropped the chocolate on the floor and stared helplessly.

"_And_ if I remember correctly, you also have one across your stomach," said Miroku, trying not to sound so enthusiastic.

Kagome's bottom lip trembled. 

Slowly, he reached for the jar, and set it closer. He dipped his whole hand in, then spread some of the goo over her skin. His fingers wrapped around her ankle, thumbs tracing gentle circles as he cleared his throat uncomfortably.

__

Too _wet_ _and_ _sticky_ _and_—

Kagome was going to castrate him.

"Um," she said instead, averting her eyes quickly. "Irresistible?"

Miroku blinked.

"That's what I meant when I said crunchy," she babbled. "I—I couldn't think of the right adjective."

Miroku stared at her.

Right then.

She was insane.

"So you want a man who is sweet, crunchy, _and_ irresistible?" he muttered, bringing his attention back to her ankle. He pressed both his palms into her flesh and—

"Yes, but without the crunchy part," said Kagome, drawing her legs closer and away from his fingers. She curled up awkwardly, and explained, "Although, I guess the crunchy part is good, too. Except... it sometimes makes my throat hurt."

Miroku tried very hard not to laugh.

And then—

—he took off his robes.

Kagome gasped, blinked furiously, and shielded her eyes. "Mir—what—no—"

"So, to summarize," Miroku tilted his head coolly, inching closer to her, "you want someone who's not very good for you."

Kagome peeked at him through her fingers. Her gaze slipped lower, lower, to his jaw, then his naked chest, then—

She shut her eyes tightly. She gave a panicked whimper, then backed away. "Miroku-sama, what are you—?"

Miroku shrugged. "I have injuries, too," he said nonchalantly, then slowly turned his back to her. "And I can't reach some of them." He pushed the jar away, and settled himself in front of her. He couldn't see her face this way, but he could certainly hear her sharp intake of breath and—

The tips of her fingers gently poked his back. A chill ran up his spine.

"That's not what I said, you know," pouted Kagome, reaching for the jar. "I know that... _piece_ _of_ _chocolate_ isn't exactly healthy for me, but..."

She slapped on the goo, spreading it across his skin carelessly.

Unk.

"...but I think that... piece of chocolate has some potential, and would never hurt me on purpose," she continued, slowing her movements. Her fingers crept to his shoulders, lightly massaging his bruised flesh.

Ow.

And, mmm.

"Besides, I have an obligation to that piece of chocolate," she finished softly.

Miroku said nothing.

She scooted closer, and closer, until she was facing him. Skillfully, she avoided his eyes, and gently touched her fingers to the gash on his chest. She stared at it for a moment, then leaned in closer.

"Thank you," she said, looking up at him through thick eyelashes.

Miroku blinked.

__

Finally!

"You're welcome, Kagome-sama," he grinned pleasantly. "I quite enjoyed it myself."

Kagome was watching him oddly. "You... enjoyed it?"

"_Of_ _course_," he replied, almost offended. "I can't wait to do it again."

Kagome narrowed her eyes. "I was talking about you saving my life."

Oh.

Eheh. _That_.

"Yes," he nodded quickly. "Me, too."

Suddenly, a sharp pain sliced through his chest. Eee. Kagome's fingers. On his wound. Ow.

"What were _you_ talking about?" she asked with a deceptively calm expression. She looked around for her backpack, stretched her arm out to grab some bandages, then leveled her eyes with his. "Miroku-sama?"

"Saving... life, and... yes," he muttered defensively. "Is it time for bed yet?"

Kagome choked violently, then tried to compose herself. She ignored him and began wrapping the bandages around his chest. Miroku relaxed. _Guy could_ _get_ _used_ _to_ _this_. He would certainly need a bath in the morning, but nevertheless—

Oh. _Bath_. Special, newlywed bath. With privacy and nudity and oh my.

__

Blood _draining_... _lower_ _regions_... _fire_... _take_...

"There," she smiled happily. "All done!" she quickly rose up, dusted off her little kimono, and ran her hands through his hair, effectively wiping off the rest of the goo. "Good night!" she said cheerfully and scampered off to bed.

Miroku twitched. And then twitched some more.

And then, with a wicked smirk, realized—

"I prefer the left side," he called out to Kagome, who'd already snuggled into one of Noda's less luxurious pillows. She lifted her head up.

Miroku felt a smile tug at his lips.

She was staring at him with an adorable, confused expression on her face. She blinked a few times, then clutched desperately to her pillow. "You're not serious."

Miroku made his way towards her, not bothering to put his robes back on. "Move over."

Kagome gaped at him. "No."

"I can't sleep unless I'm on the left side," he said reasonably, biting back a grin.

Kagome was now clawing at the sheets with a panicked grimace. "And_ I _can't sleep if I have to fend off lecherous monks all night!"

Miroku cocked an eyebrow. "Just one monk. And I promise to be lecherous only twelve percent of the time." He knelt down, and pulled at the sheet. Kagome pulled back.

"I don't like those odds," she squeaked, pulling the sheet to her chin. "Let's say we're talking about a period of eight hours," she babbled. "That's... carry the one... 480 minutes."

Miroku's hands froze mid-air, one leg already sliding under the sheet.

"So, twelve percent of that would be... Q divided by one hundred... 57.6 minutes."

Miroku swallowed nervously.

"And, technically, fifty eight minutes is more than enough time to... to..." she flushed, then threw the pillow at him. "_Out_, monk!"

Miroku toppled onto the hard mat and laughed wildly.

Kagome growled and tried to push him off and away, but he just kept on laughing, until his hair was sticking out everywhere as he rolled across the sheet. Finally, he forced himself to calm down, and leaned on his palm, amused. He looked at Kagome, who was busy being horrified.

"That _was_ a good kiss, wasn't it?" he asked, eyes sparkling with mischief.

Kagome shrunk into herself, hugging the pillow to her chest. "Good night!" she said and scooted to the far left, tangling herself into the sheet.

Miroku raised both his eyebrows and watched the tasty curve of her backside. "Dearest wife," he said airily, "surely you don't intend to sleep in your clothes."

He could see the outline beneath the sheet stiffen most horridly. "And surely _you_ don't expect me to sleep naked?"

Sleep? Who mentioned _sleeping_?

A gleeful grin quirked his lips upwards. "Kagome-sama," he began soothingly, "please reconsider. You are covered with healing medicine. During the course of night, it will dry and stick to your outfit, and then you will have to walk around the village naked because your clothes will be ruined."

He expected her to fly into a rage, or completely ignore him.

She did neither.

Instead, she giggled. "Somehow," she said, her voice muffled by the pillow, "I get the feeling I'd be safer that way." She flipped over and stared at him. "Miroku-sama?"

"Yes?"

"Do you think Inuyasha is okay?" she asked, voice tinged with concern.

Miroku stared.

__

Great.

"I'm sure he's fine," he said cheerfully, though he was anything but. Huffily, he turned his back on her and scooted to the far right. He grumbled into his pillow, and closed his eyes, aggravated.

Stupid girl. 

What did he care? It was none of his business.

He was sticky and full of energy and he really hated sleeping on the right side. Plus, he was cold.

Dog-boy could have her for all he cared.

"Miroku-sama?" whispered Kagome softly.

He tried to ignore her.

"Miro-kun?" she tapped his shoulder.

"What is it?" he asked groggily.

"I can't sleep," she said worriedly. "I'm cold."

Miroku felt the blood leave his brain again.

"How unfortunate," he said before he flipped over and reached out for her. He quickly inched closer and wrapped his arms around the girl, sliding a leg over hers. He tucked the top of her head under his chin, and pushed his hips closer to hers. "Better?"

"Actually," he heard her muffled voice, "I—I was referring to the blanket in the corner."

Miroku loosened his grip and moved his head just enough to stare at her. She was so red she was practically blue, and her eyes were strangely glassy. "I was—" she began, petrified. "—only going to ask if you could get the... the blanket."

Miroku grinned sheepishly, removing one hand to scratch the back of his neck. He untangled himself from her and stood up. "Well, I did say twelve percent," he said as way of apology.

Kagome nodded numbly, and wrapped the sheet tighter around herself.

He retrieved the scrap of cloth Kagome referred to as a blanket, and froze in his tracks. There, at his feet, was the clay jar.

A wicked smile claimed his features.

"Kagome-sama," he called out, putting as much concern into his voice as humanly possible. Kagome ignored him, so he purposefully strode over to her side and dropped to his knees. He presented the jar to her as if it were some great treasure, and grinned. "There's still the matter of your wounds," he said, wrapping his fingers around the sheet.

Her eyes widened adorably as she tried to fend him off. "It's okay, really, Miroku-sama. I'm fine."

Miroku shook his head dramatically. "No, no, Kagome-sama," he dipped his fingers into the goo. "I couldn't accept gratitude for saving your life if I allowed you to die from infection," he finished brilliantly.

Kagome whimpered. "No, really, Miroku-sama, I'm grateful. Really! You _are_ wearing pants, after all," she said, glancing at his naked chest. "That's enough for me."

Miroku raised a cocky eyebrow. He tossed the blanket at her, then, while she was distracted, he wrenched the sheet away, leaving her shivering in front of him.

"Eek!" she screeched and froze.

Fingers itching. Must. Touch. Skin. "Perhaps you should take off your—"

"Gah!" she pushed him away. "If anyone's going to be disinfecting that cut, it's going to be me." Determinedly, she grabbed the jar with a grumble, then scooped up a bit of the goo and—

"Well, do you have to watch?"

__

Yes.

"I must be certain you'll do it properly," he nodded vehemently. Cheeks pink, Kagome lifted up the top portion of her little kimono (_note_ _to_ _self_: _kimono_ _divides_ _for_ _easy_ _access_!), and winced. She leaned back against the pillow awkwardly and stared at the dark ceiling.

So. Much. Pretty. Skin.

"Are you sure you don't want me to—" began Miroku greedily.

"Quite," she snapped.

"But you're doing it wrong."

"Am not."

"Are, too."

"Am not!

"Are, too!"

"Fine!" she yelled. "Then _you_ do it, if you're so good!"

Heh. Too easy.

With an eager grin, Miroku dipped his fingers once, twice, three times, then brought them to her flat stomach. To his chagrin, he found himself swallowing hard.

"Ack! No! I was just kiddi—" she began, mortified. His hands made gentle contact with her skin. His fingers were cold and her skin was warm and Miroku had already named their first child.

Slowly, he slid his fingers around the thin cut across her stomach, circling her belly button. His throat was dry, but he managed to look her in the eye. Time for Plan D.

"The way I see it, Kagome-sama, you are a priestess... of sort," he said. Kagome watched him with an odd expression. "And I am a monk." Pause. "Creating an offspring is practically our duty."

She blinked.

"Our obligation to the world," he nodded. "Not only would it benefit my lineage should I die prematurely," his fingers slipped to her sides. His voice faltered a bit. "But it would also benefit the northern lands."

Most likely, at least.

Kagome blinked at him, but didn't push his hands away.

"Miroku," she asked, "I have a hypothetical question for you."

"Yes, Kagome-chan?"

"If you knew our... coupling definitely wouldn't result in an offspring, would it still be our duty?"

Was that a trick question? Was she--

"Why, I suppose not, but—"

"Okay!" she said happily, as she quickly pushed him away. "Good night, then!"

"What? _Wait_," he called out, trying to sit back up.

"You're picking on the wrong girl, Miroku-sama," she said cheerfully, tugging down her kimono. "Even if I wanted to ruin my life... erm, I mean, have a child, I _couldn't_."

Blink.

"Let's just say teen pregnancy isn't very popular where I live. In fact, most mothers, mine included, take certain steps to ensure that it doesn't happen to their daughters."

Heathens! Blasphemy! Cruel and unusual punishment!

That meant... it meant that...

__

No _matter_. He could always have a child with one of those silly village girls who seemed intent on clinging to him even though they were ugly and rarely washed their hair. There was still nothing that could prevent him from just taking Kagome a few (dozen) times and—

"Besides," she giggled, wrapping herself in the blanket he'd brought, "Inuyasha would kill me. I don't think he'd appreciate his "shard detector" disappearing every odd minute because she had a craving for strawberries and, I don't know, pickles?"

__

Inuyasha.

Miroku scowled nastily. "Yes, Buddha forbid Inuyasha be inconvenienced," he said grumpily, and returned to his side. He slid under the sheet, keeping as far away from Kagome as he could.

Kagome was silent.

"After all," he said, tugging at the blanket she was currently hogging, "Inuyasha is—"

"Miroku-sama?" she interrupted him quietly.

He ignored her. He tugged at the blanket again. He was cold. Cold, damn it.

"Miroku-sama?"

"What is it?" he mumbled and looked over his shoulder. Kagome was looking at him, eyes watery, holding out the blanket he wanted. She quietly draped it over him, then curled up on her side, one hand tucking itself under her pink cheek.

Miroku glared at the offending scrap of material.

One blanket. Two of them. And she obviously didn't want him touching her. So.

It was either him or her. He knew he wouldn't be able to sleep if he wasn't warm. And he was tired. Very tired. So tired, in fact, he had _no_ reservations about keeping the blanket to himself.

He looked at her. Her eyes were closed. She was probably getting ready to dream about her precious Inuyasha.

__

Wench.

Miroku frowned, grabbed the blanket, and—

It wasn't a hard decision at all.

"You should take it, Kagome-sama," he said, tucking her in. "Sweet dreams."

.

.

.

.

.

****

Kagome: ...

****

Miroku: ...

****

Kagome: Um—

****

Miroku: _Shut_ _up_. You better pounce on me in the next chapter.


	6. Judgment

****

Author's Note: I should probably mention fanfiction.net took one of my stories down due to its "questionable rating". I should also probably mention that as a result of such an infraction, my account was blocked for a while. Finally, I should probably mention that I am _slightly_ pissed off.

Unfortunately, this means I have to be careful with this story. The rating must not exceed R. Miroku is upset. Kagome is relieved. And you... you people are crazy.

Been reading the reviews, and I'm almost positive this is a conspiracy. For example, I'm practically certain _lynnxlady_ is my psychology professor in disguise (Dr. Murphy, what are you doing reading fanfiction? I thought you had a war to stop). And also, the rest of you?

__

So _pretty_.

****

Gush: Most of this chapter was inspired by Mireille (whom I'd marry if I didn't have a fear of commitment. And was, you know, gay ^_^).

.

.

.

****

Step **Five**

Good judgment comes from bad experience, and a lot of _that _comes from bad judgment.

.

.

.

Her lips were soft.

The scent of white jasmine, with a hint of candied strawberries and black tea, sweet and rich, lingered in the air. Slowly, he ran his fingers up her arms, circling her shoulders. The blanket, with its evil impediments, was grating against his skin, the subtle sound of her shallow breaths caressing his senses.

His skin was burning, itching, _crawling_ with the promise of pleasure, and maybe, just maybe, if he promised to be a good little monk, a little pain.

And her cheek was warm.

Gently, he pressed his lips to hers, then pulled back to watch her. Clad in nothing but a silky slip of fabric, she was staring at him, bare and glistening an inviting shade of flushed pale. So, his hands slipped a little lower, lower—

Frustration snaked its way through his muscles, burning hot and cold under his skin. His hold on her tightened. She looked up at him sweetly, brushing away a stray lock of hair.

The air was thick, and he was greedy. His every motion felt slow and tired and lazy and—

He couldn't stop.

__

Wouldn't stop.

She was staring at him again, and perhaps, perhaps he recognized something in those eyes. A sliver of primeval need, not necessarily coherent or voluntary, but—

He'd take it.

And suddenly, there was contact. Fiery and scalding on his already hot skin, and his thumb moved to her mouth, crushing her pouty bottom lip against her teeth. He cupped her face, and on impulse, she turned her cheek into his touch, bewitched, bewildered, and bothered, abiding by the whispered breath of temptation in her ear.

"Miroku," she began, but he silenced her.

His palms were sticky. Her skin, glistening with a translucent, pearly sheen of sweat, was slick and hot and—

Unexpectedly, there was a twinge and a murmur and—

__

She was kissing _him_.

Her eyes were squeezed shut, the graceful arch of her neck signaling wild abandon. It was a wet, aching slide of lips and tongue, and for a moment, he was once again aware of the burning air around him, and the thick, heavy layer of heat on his skin.

She didn't seem to mind. She shifted slightly, curling into him, drawing closer, closer, until his hands finally slid down the slippery valley of her back. Dark, damp locks clung to her flushed cheeks, so he reached out and tangled his fingers in her hair.

A breath of that hot, suffocating air—

And she whimpered, biting his lower lip. And then, his palms—

Clammy and hungry and roaming and smoothing out the dimples on the small of her back, exploring and happy and burning lasting imprints on her hips. Silk—thin and cool to his touch—clung to her slick flesh, and he groaned as she pushed his hands lower, his fingers snagging on the hem of her—

"Kagome," he mumbled, his throat dry. "Stop."

She didn't.

"You have to," he said unconvincingly. "If you don't, I'll—"

Her lips parted as her legs wrapped around him.

He stretched and tried very hard not to groan. "Ka-go-me, you... you don't want me take you—"

He paused as she grazed her nails over his chest.

He shivered.

She drew closer, closer, lingering near his ear, watching him from underneath thick, dark lashes. 

"I do," she said in a breathless whisper.

Miroku groaned and obeyed.

He just couldn't... wouldn't... too warm and good and...

Wait a minute.

__

Warm?

Sigh.

Slowly, Miroku, the delinquent monk, opened his eyes.

__

Room, _dark_.

__

Birds _chirping_ _somewhere_ _in_ _distance_.

Bed, empty.

Irritated, Miroku sat up, scratched his eyebrow, then bunched up the sheets, which would... certainly need to be thoroughly washed. He gathered his hair back up in its patented ponytail, noticing—

The blanket.

It was—

—wrapped around him.

Sigh.

Stupid girl. How could he be the selfless one if she insisted on being so damn...

And also, where the hell was she?

Despite his best efforts not to, Miroku grinned.

__

Probably off causing an apocalypse by picking strawberries or some such idiocy.

Feeling his usual cheerful self now, Miroku went about his morning routines, wondering all the while whether or not this charade was...

Worth it?

What was the point, really? Kagome was obviously smitten with that obnoxious hanyou, what with all the gushing and—

__

No.

It was getting progressively harder to focus. He was... he was... damn it.

He was getting attached. Not a good thing, that. Especially considering he'd never attached himself to anyone, for very obvious reasons. The curse, and so on.

And also, freedom. Miroku liked his freedom. Liked it very much. In fact, he liked it so much, he was willing to devote himself entirely to maintaining his precious lifestyle. So, really, what _was_ the point? He obviously wasn't going to get—

Any.

And, for some odd, stupid reason, he'd started feeling... _uncomfortable_ around that silly little girl.

Ack! No. Stop. No analyzing before breakfast.

Objective. Find food, Kagome, and possibly take a bath. Not necessarily in that order.

And with that decision, Miroku stepped outside, where he was immediately greeted by sunshine and a cool breeze and—

"Miroku!" shouted a deep, familiar voice.

Miroku wished desperately he could go back to his nice dream.

"Good morning, Kenichi," he bowed politely.

The Kenichi in question, a short, freckled man, smacked Miroku's shoulder informally. "Father _said_ you were back," he nodded vehemently, then grinned happily. "And just in time, too!" Looking almost giddy, he pointed towards a small clump of trees. "There's a new girl in the village! And she's bathing in the river as we speak!"

...

No.

__

Couldn't be.

"Less talking," said another voice, "more watching." This time, Miroku did groan.

__

One of Noda's sons was more than enough. Two, on the other hand, was pure, absolute hell.

Except—

A mischievous ache thumped deep within his chest.

__

I missed _this_.

Akito, the older of the two, was sizing Miroku up. "After all, we wouldn't want to get there and find the lovely young lady already clothed, now, would we?"

__

Hope _not_.

"Oh!" said Kenichi excitedly, practically dragging Miroku toward the trees. "Just like old times! I'm so glad you're back, Miroku. It's been quite boring here without you."

Hn.

__

I should _probably_ _stop_ _them_.

Except, why?

Why not have a little fun before Inuyasha killed him?

Besides, it'd been a while since he last saw Kagome naked. And after that drea... keh, _nightmare_ this morning—

The river ran through a small patchwork of fields, weaving through a tiny, pseudo-secluded forest area. A few well-placed rocks hid a shallow shore, and the river continued on around the village and the barren meadows.

Overall, it wasn't the prettiest of places.

Actually, the only pretty thing there was—

"Kagome," he mumbled, separating himself from Noda's sons.

She was running her fingers through her wet hair, and was—

Fully clothed.

Kenichi's shoulders slumped. "How... disappointing."

Akito said nothing. Miroku let out a breath.

What was this annoying feeling—

__

Relief? Gah. No. Why would he—

Kagome turned to them, and though she was clothed (if one considered her little kimono actual clothing), her cheeks were pink.

"Miroku...chan," she said pointedly, approaching them. "Didn't you read my note?"

Miroku's brain retraced the morning events.

__

Soft _lips_... _white_ _jasmine_... _good_ _little_ _monk_... _warm_ _skin_... _Kagome_ _kissing_ _him_... _air_ _thick_... _couldn't_ _stop_... _take_ _her_... _she_ _wanted_ _him_... _pearly_ _sheen_ _of_ _sweat_... _slick_ _and_ _hot_... _and_ _silk_ _kittens_... _she_ _wanted_ _him_... _breathless_ _whispers_... _she_ _wanted_ _him_—

Nope. No note.

At the moment, Miroku was in love with his loose robes. Akito was watching him strangely, while Kenichi courteously smiled at Kagome. Kagome, on the other hand, took a worried step toward Miroku, feeling his forehead.

"Miroku-sama?" she asked. "Are you okay? You seem a little warm." Her eyes widened guiltily. "I hope you didn't—didn't catch a cold last night. I'm so sorry for—"

"Ka-go-me," he caught her hand. "I'm fine."

She—she was worried about him. How... disgustingly adorable. Bah.

So, arranging his features into a nonchalant expression, he turned to Noda's sons. "Did I forget to mention this is my wife?" Pause. "Kagome-sama, these are Akito and Kenichi. You've already met their father, I believe. The bastard from last night?"

The two brothers exchanged glances.

Then, with an incredulous wince, Kenichi poked Miroku's chest.

"What are you doing?" asked Miroku exasperatedly.

"Just making sure I'm not hallucinating," replied Kenichi dazedly. "Father was experimenting with some wild mushrooms this morning, so..."

Kagome giggled.

Akito was still silent, observing them intently. Then suddenly, he swept in like a vulture and grabbed Kagome's hands. "Well, then, I guess congratulations are in order," he said smoothly, practically gluing himself to Kagome.

__

Touch _her_ _and_ _die_.

"Yes, yes," said Miroku, pushing Akito away from Kagome. He cleared his throat as Kagome blinked. "Thank you," he told the brothers, though his voice was oddly unemotional.

"So," Akito ignored him, "why would such a beautiful woman (insert charming wink) settle for our little Miroku?"

__

Little?

Miroku fumed as Kagome glanced at him uneasily.

"Well," she began politely, "he's nice."

"Nice?" Akito raised an eyebrow.

"And... uh, sweet. And brave."

Miroku shook his head. That was it? Three adjectives? Granted, she hadn't known him all that long, and he supposed she _could_ have substituted nice with lecher, sweet with liar, and brave with thief, but—

Oddly dissatisfied, Miroku muttered, "Wonder if you're more descriptive when it comes to pieces of chocolate."

"What's that supposed to mean?" she turned around, glaring at him.

"What?" he asked innocently. The way she was looking at him just now—

__

Her lips had been soft.

Oh-uh.

"What are you implying?" she demanded, hands on hips.

__

Fiery and scalding on his already hot skin, and his thumb had moved to her mouth, crushing her pouty bottom lip against her teeth.

Ack, no!

"I'm not implying anything, _dear_ _wife_," he gritted out, feeling a pleasant heat creep up his spine. "I'm merely suggesting you ought to have a more descriptive vocabulary when it comes to your husband."

The brothers exchanged glances.

"You — you're insulting my vocabulary?" asked Kagome incredulously. 

__

She'd shifted slightly, curling into him, drawing closer, closer, until his hands had finally slid down the slippery valley of her back.

Dear Buddha, but this was incredibly uncomfortable. _Kuso_. Why couldn't he stop thinking about—

"I did no such thing," he protested, his heart beating fast. "I'd sooner attack your selfishness, than your vocabulary," he said amicably, trying to mend this quickly deteriorating conversation.

Kagome's eyes widened. "I apologized for that already! I told you _you_ could have the stupid blanket!"

What? _That's not what I meant!_

"Kagome!" he raised his hands—

__

And she'd whimpered, biting his lower lip. 

He was losing control. Fast.

She was looking at him, flushed and furious and—

__

'Kagome, you don't want me take you—'

'I do._'_

Disconcerted, Miroku said the only thing he could think of, and though it was a lie, it certainly prevented him from losing control, "You snore!"

Kagome balled up her little fists and slapped him furiously. "You... you knew that when you married me!" she shrieked.

A long, silent minute followed.

"So..." said Akito, looking at his fingernails with interest. "He blackmailed you into it?" he concluded.

Both Miroku and Kagome choked simultaneously.

"What? No!" Kagome panicked, looking at Miroku.

"I didn't blackmail her," said Miroku, insulted.

Kagome looked at him questioningly.

"It's all right, Kagome-sama," he told her with a sigh, grateful for the distraction. "They might as well know."

"Know what?" asked Akito, looking incredibly intrigued.

Kagome hesitated. "We..."

Kenichi raised both his bushy eyebrows.

Kagome scuffed her toe nervously. "Miroku-sama's mother worries," she said as if that explained everything, then launched into a hurried explanation. "You see, because of Miroku-sama's... curse, she's unsettled, and we—she—um. If she thinks Miroku has taken care of his future, she'll... well, she's so _fragile_, you see."

"_Miroku's_ mother? Mother of _Miroku_?" Kenichi spluttered. "Kagome-sama, with all due respect, I don't think we're talking about the same pers—"

Ack!

Miroku waved his hands wildly behind Kagome's back.

__

Not _ready_ _to_ _tell_ _her_ _yet_. _Not_ _ready_—

Akito pressed his fingers into Kenichi's neck, and smiled coolly. "Yes, it is very unfortunate about Mother."

Miroku relaxed.

"You are a very noble woman to worry about a stranger's well-being, Kagome-sama," Akito continued charmingly.

Miroku frowned.

"And... I am glad to see you are not... truly wed to _him,_" gushed Akito.

Kagome reddened.

Miroku gritted his teeth.

"Akito-san," he muttered. "Would you mind terribly if we had a word?" he asked pleasantly, though he had murder on his mind.

Kenichi rubbed his sore neck. "Akito, do remember to duck."

Miroku waited. Grudgingly, Akito stepped aside, smiling wickedly. "You haven't changed. But she's pretty. Are we sharing?"

"No, yes, and no," Miroku frowned, glancing at Kagome, who was busy talking happily with Kenichi. "Stay away from her," he told Akito.

"Why?"

__

I... _don't know_.

"Because she belongs to someone already," he said, finding himself reluctant to acknowledge the fact.

"Not you?" asked Akito incredulously.

"No."

"Well, well," snickered Akito.

"Shut up," said Miroku tersely.

"So, what _are_ you trying to do?" asked Akito, amused.

__

I _don_'_t_ know, _damn_ _it_.

"None of your business," he told him succinctly. "Just... keep your fingers to yourself."

"Are you doing the same?" sulked Akito.

"Unfortunately." Miroku grumbled, then said in a loud, cheerful voice, "Don't you two have anything to do? Farming or something?"

Kagome stopped talking to Kenichi, and walked over to Miroku. "Speaking of things that need to be done, I have to study," she said, tilting her head innocently.

"And you," she said with extra sweetness, sugar practically dripping off her lips, "need to find a certain little boy."

Oh. OH! Crap. _Shippou_.

"Because," continued Kagome so sugary-sweet he was sure he'd develop a cavity or two, "if you don't find him, I will be very... displeased."

Miroku swallowed.

Akito grinned, reaching for Kagome's hands again.

Miroku frowned. _Didn't I_ _tell_ _that_ _bastard_ _to_—

"I can help find the boy, if you'd like," said Akito. "What does the child look like?" he asked professionally.

"Oh," said Kagome happily. "He's a tiny little thing. Cutest little nose, and fluffy orange hair, and pretty, green eyes," she babbled helpfully. Miroku noted Akito was paying attention to her bare legs. Only her legs. "He's wearing dark blue pants and a light blue shirt and has a dark orange overco—"

Right. _Now_ she was all descriptive.

__

I get _three_ _measly_ _adjectives altogether_, _and_ _Shippou_ _gets_ _nine_ _per_ _sentence_.

Miroku sighed. "Kagome-sama, he's not listening."

Kagome looked at him, lost.

Miroku's brow furrowed. "Akito, what does the boy look like, from what Kagome-sama has told you just now?"

Akito reddened. "He's... got... eyes. And, uh... hair?"

Kagome rubbed her forehead, then threw her hands up in the air. "I give up. I'm going to go study." She poked Miroku's chest. "You better find him." She spun on her heel, and bowed politely to Kenichi. "It was nice meeting you, Kenichi-kun," she said, then stormed off.

Miroku let out a deep, suffering sigh.

"Are you sure you're not married?" smiled Kenichi.

Miroku shook his head, but grinned in return. "I'd say it's been a pleasure seeing you two again, but I'd be lying." He straightened his robes, and glanced back at the two brothers. "If you'll excuse me, I have a Shippou to find."

He left them to whatever delinquency they were up to, and headed for the center of the village.

The kid had to be there somewhere. Right?

On his way through the village, Miroku walked past a legion of spinsters, but Shippou hadn't been anywhere in sight. Eventually, though, he did run into—

—his mother. 

She was walking quickly, a basket of fruit tucked under her arm. When she spotted him, her eyes widened briefly, as if she'd forgotten all about him. Then, she frowned.

"I decided not to talk to you today," she grumbled and walked past him, then spun around, came back, and shoved an apple in his hand. "Eat something, you idiot."

And then she was gone.

Miroku grinned and bit into his apple, looking and listening for signs of Shippou.

He'd visited numerous huts, looking for the little kitsune, but there was not a trace of him. He'd eaten, had a bath, and ran into a number of people he really had no intention of socializing with, and now... now it was very late in the afternoon, approaching dusk, and Shippou still hadn't been found.

Yep.

Kagome was going to murder him.

There! What was that?

A small congregation of women stood around the village well, gushing and giggling.

And there, hidden amidst a sea of pink robes was a fluffy little ball of—

"Miroku!" yelped the little kitsune, sailing past a group of confused villagers and burrowing himself into Miroku's chest. ("Hey! Come back! _Little_ _one_!" screamed one of the women.) He wrapped his little arms around Miroku's neck, trembling. "I promise I'll be good. I won't even ask for chocolate anymore. Just please, please, don't leave me with them again."

The little kitsune smelled like candy.

Miroku smiled guiltily.

"I'm sorry, Shippou," he said sincerely, and peeled him off so he could look at his face. The poor boy was freshly scrubbed, and his cheeks looked unnaturally pink, as if he'd been pinched an unhealthy number of times.

Miroku winced.

He'd forgotten how doting and, well... demented, spinsters were.

So, feeling rather culpable, Miroku let the little kitsune clamp his hands around his neck, then carried him away, saying the only thing he knew would make Shippou feel better.

"Let's get you back to Kagome."

It took them a while, but they found Kagome in the orchard, nibbling on fruit and rummaging through her backpack. She looked up at them, and her eyes widened excitedly.

Shippou tore himself away from Miroku, and, in a blur of orange and blue, bolted towards Kagome.

"SHIPPOU-CHAN!" yelled Kagome, crushing the child in her arms. Shippou didn't seem to mind as he desperately clung to her kimono. "Are you okay, Shippou-chan?" she asked worriedly, shooting a scathing glance at Miroku.

Sigh.

"I am _now_," said Shippou adorably, snuggling. "It was horrible, Kagome."

Kagome sniffed his hair. "But you smell very nice, Shippou-chan," she said, obviously fighting a giggle. "What did they do to you?"

Shippou whimpered and burrowed deeper. "They thought I was a girl!" he cried. "They made me... they made me wear... _stuff_."

Kagome kissed the top of his little head, and ran a soothing hand down his back. "Next time, throw chocolate at them, and run," she grinned.

Shippou perked up.

Miroku watched, fascinated.

Soon, Shippou was devouring oodles of noodles, slurping and whining about not being fed properly and missing Kagome and—

"If you're trying to make me feel guilty..." began Miroku. "It's working."

Shippou nodded, satisfied. "Besides, they wouldn't shut up about _you_."

Eek.

"Whatever do you mean, Shippou?" asked Miroku casually. Kagome watched them curiously.

"Well," began Shippou slowly, looking at his empty bowl. Promptly, Kagome filled it up for him. "They kept asking if you and 'that indecent girl' (Kagome huffed) were together and if I thought you were cute." His little face contorted. "What kind of a stupid question is that? Why would they ask stupid things like that?"

"They're women," shrugged Miroku.

OW!

"Carry on, Shippou-chan," said Kagome coolly, as she put down the stick she'd whacked Miroku with.

"Well, I told them the truth, that we were all traveling together, and then they got mad. Why would they get mad, Miroku?"

Miroku grinned, practically puffing out his chest. "They're jealous."

Kagome scoffed.

"You see, Shippou," he continued conspiratorially, "they want me."

Shippou looked unconvinced. Kagome looked strangely disinterested, digging through her backpack.

"All women get jealous when they're not the center of attention," said Miroku.

Kagome scoffed, louder this time. She took out a thick book, flipped it open, and pretended to read.

"_Scary_," said Shippou, pushing away the empty bowl, and nibbling on a pocky.

Kagome's eyes were narrowed.

Miroku watched her carefully. He'd better ask—

"What are you doing, Kagome?" asked Shippou before Miroku could open his mouth. The little kitsune bounced towards her, and poked his nose in the book.

"Homework," sighed Kagome.

"What's that strange symbol?" Shippou perched himself on her shoulder.

Kagome scrunched up her nose and began explaining. Miroku decided this was the perfect time to build a fire.

And gloat.

She was jealous. She was. Had to be.

Why else would she react in such a way?

He poked the fire, throwing on more sticks and branches.

__

What _way_?

He looked at her. She was completely immersed in her explanation, tapping her odd-looking quill to her lips.

No. Kagome didn't have it in her to be jealous. Especially not when it came to _this_ monk. 

Sigh.

"—and so, since this is a cube root, and the x is raised to the seventh power... um, after I factor this difference of squares on the left under the root and... raise the right side to the third power, while _separating_ the radical, we should get... the cube root of x squared, two x minus four, set it to zero and factor... ta dah! X is two!" she finished, chewing on her wooden quill.

Miroku blinked.

__

Head. _Hurts_. _Must_. _Have_. _Sanity_. _Back_.

Kagome glanced at the little kitsune, who'd slipped to her lap. "Do you understand now, Shippou-chan?" she asked sweetly.

Shippou sunk into himself. "No."

"Me neither!" cried Kagome, hugging the little kitsune desperately.

Miroku grinned, leaning back against a tree. "Can I see that book, Kagome-sama?"

Kagome raised both her eyebrows, but handed him the book nonetheless.

Miroku flipped through a few incredibly white, incredibly smooth, and incredibly boring pages, then—

—tossed the book into the fire.

"Eeek! Miroku-sama!" screeched Kagome, trying to save it.

Miroku grabbed her wrists, and grinned.

"Now you have an excuse," he said, waiting for her to profess her undying gratitude.

Kagome seemed to be considering this. "...'Akamatsu-sama, you see, a crazy monk who lives in Feudal Japan threw my math book into a bonfire. Will I still get an A on the exam? ^_^'..." she muttered to herself experimentally, then—

—poked his forearm. "You're worse than Inuyasha."

Miroku frowned.

"You _promised_ I could study," she complained. "It's one of the reasons I agreed to help you, remember?"

Eheh. No?

Shippou yawned. The setting sun was dangerously close to the horizon.

"Why didn't you study in the morning?" asked Miroku flippantly. "Oh, that's right," he said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, "you were busy flirting with Akito."

Kagome bristled. "I. Was. Not. Flirting."

Miroku shrugged. "If you say so."

"I do say so, you idiot monk!" she shouted, forcing Shippou to cover his little youkai ears.

"Miroku," asked the kitsune tiredly, "does it work the other way around?"

"Does what work the other way around?" blinked Miroku, pausing in his fight with Kagome.

"Do men get jealous, too, if they're not the center of attention?"

Miroku narrowed his eyes. Kagome snickered and answered the annoying kid. "More so than women."

Shippou considered this. "So, is Miroku jealous, then?"

__

Must. _Kill_. _Now_.

"I am not jealous!" Miroku said, irritated. "I'm just—just looking out for Inuyasha. It's in _his_ best interest if Kagome-sama doesn't flirt with _every_ man she meets."

Kagome was looking at him murderously. "I—you—argh!"

"Yes. Glad you agree," nodded Miroku childishly.

"Agree with what?" asked a voice. Miroku turned around with a scowl. Akito and Kenichi were standing under the doorway that led into the orchard.

Kagome flushed. "Akito-kun, please tell Miroku you're not interested in me, and I'm not interested in you, so I don't have to murder him while he sleeps."

Akito-_kun_?

"Kagome-sama, I certainly wouldn't mind telling him that, though I fear it would be a lie."

"Thank y... _what_?" Kagome blinked.

Akito swooped down, sitting himself next to Kagome, and grabbed her hands. "I am fascinated by you, Kagome-sama."

Kagome scooted away. Miroku rubbed his temples exasperatedly. "Let me finish that speech for you, Akito. 'We do not get many beautiful women in our village, Kagome-sama. I would be honored if you were to be my wife.' Do you _ever_ change your routine?"

Akito grinned a crooked grin. "Do _you_?"

Damn it.

__

Am I_ this bad_?

"Wait," said Kagome. "Is this some kind of competition between you two?"

Kenichi, who'd plopped himself down next to Shippou, smiled apologetically. "Just ignore them, Kagome-sama. They always do this. It's simple sibling rivalry. Annoying, but simple."

Sibling rivalry? Akito?

Oh, dear Buddha, no. _No_.

Miroku composed himself. "There is no competition."

"Of course not," agreed Akito. "Because I always win."

Miroku threw a stick at him.

Kagome smiled, and in an unprecedented show of solidarity, scooted closer to him.

Shippou snuggled between them sleepily.

The moon rose high above the trees.

"Not to ruin this... erm, perfect moment, but," said Kenichi carefully, "we were wondering if you'll be keeping guard over the village now that you... well, killed Fuzzy."

Miroku sighed. "Why do you think we're out here instead of in there?"

"_We_?" Akito raised an eyebrow. "You're forcing a lady to fight alongside you?"

Kagome huffed. "He's not forcing me. Besides, it's partly my fault you guys are in trouble. And I always fix my mistakes," she finished, upset.

Miroku tried to hide a grin. "Kagome is more useful in battle than you realize."

__

Except _when_ _she_ _gets_ _kidnapped_, _knocked_ _down_ _or_ _out_, _misses_ _her_ _target—_

"What's so funny?" she growled.

Oh. Was he smiling?

Soothingly, he said, "She is a miko."

The brothers exchanged glances. And Kagome—

Kagome was watching him oddly. While the two brothers discussed among themselves, she leaned over and whispered, "Thanks."

Miroku blinked.

"For not saying, 'She is the _reincarnation_ of a miko'," she mumbled as Shippou's tail twitched.

Oh.

__

She'_s_ _bothered_ _by_ _this_.

Gah. Why did she have to be so damn complicated? How could he think of her as a sex object if she—

"A _miko_!" said Kenichi excitedly. "Then we need not worry!"

Kagome blushed profusely.

Miroku tried not to look so offended. "And what am _I_? Useless, all of a sudden?"

Akito shrugged. Kenichi's features softened. "We don't like you using the kazaana, is all."

Oh.

..._should_ _I be touched by that or_—?

"'Cause that's cheating," added Akito humorously. He turned to Kagome, and explained, "He tried to use it on me once, when he was eleven. We were racing—"

"You were _cheating_!" shouted Miroku. Kagome glanced from one to the other.

"No, you were just slow," corrected Akito airily. "You see," he told Kagome confidentially, "Miroku _hates_ losing."

Kagome glanced at Miroku peculiarly.

Miroku sulked. Akito grinned. He really _was_ like the older brother Miroku'd... never want.

"That's not a bad thing," said Kagome suddenly. "Wanting to win, I mean."

All three men looked at her. She coughed uncomfortably. "Well, especially now." Her gaze slid to his gloved hand.

"Right," said Akito uneasily.

"Yes," coughed Kenichi.

Crickets chirped.

An awkward silence followed.

Sigh. Great. _Don't_ _want_ _pity_. Stop it, damn it.

"So," said Kenichi, rubbing the back of his neck as he stood up, "I suppose we can leave you to your... guarding," he finished lamely. "Good luck in case they show up."

Akito said nothing, surprising Miroku. The two brothers made their way back into the Inn quietly, and once they were completely out of sight, Miroku poked the fire calmly.

Shippou was obviously asleep, practically purring between them.

"Miroku?" asked Kagome cheerfully.

__

Why _is_ _she_ _so_—

"Do you really think I have the attention span of a goldfish?" she asked, amused.

He followed her line of vision and—

The book he'd tossed into the fire was still recognizable. In spite of himself, Miroku had to grin. "I apologize. I promise not to burn any other books you may have brought. Unless we run out of wood."

Kagome giggled. "Apology accepted." She shifted slightly, careful not to disturb the sleeping kitsune. "You know," she began slowly. "I think I've finally figured you out," she smiled happily.

__

Right.

"Oh?" he raised an amused eyebrow.

"Yes," she nodded, patting Shippou's head. Shippou smiled in his sleep, and scooted closer to Kagome.

"I thought this village was a bad influence on you," she began, suddenly serious. "After meeting Noda-san, I was basically convinced. But..."

Miroku glanced at her.

"That's not it at all, is it?" she smiled sadly, staring intently at his right hand.

Miroku gripped the stick he was holding tighter.

Keh. What did she know about—

"I'm not worried anymore," she said.

Miroku blinked.

"That you'll take advantage of me, that is," she added. "Because... you're starting to think of me as a friend, and since I'm a girl, you'll have to change your perception of me—if you haven't already, that is," she mumbled. 

Miroku poked the fire in silence, so she continued. "When we met, you said you didn't want to travel with companions," she tilted her head fondly. "But it's too late now, you know. You're stuck with Shippou, Inuyasha, and me." She grinned. "Scary, ne?"

__

Very.

"How do you know I'm not just using you to get the shards?" asked Miroku, refusing to meet her eyes.

She observed him for a moment. "Because, like Inuyasha, you are a good man."

__

Gah. Why couldn't she stop comparing him to that dog?

"And see, I'm determined to be your friend," she said cheerfully. "Even if you decide to panic now and push me away."

Miroku watched her, shocked into silence.

"Because that's what you're bound to do," she nodded sagely to herself. "It's what you do when you become afraid."

"What?"

"Everything, all of this," she waved her hand in a vague manner, "is just your way of saying, 'Stay away'—"

Miroku frowned.

"—and I'm willing to bet, that when it comes right down to it, even your, um, lecherous behavior is just a big act."

Miroku grinned playfully. "Why would you think that?"

"Because," she smiled proudly, "I've seen you around women. Not all of them... _hate_ the idea of bearing your child. Yet, you have none. Why?"

..._why_, _indeed_?

"Because..." he began, then paused, unable to answer.

Ugh.

"See? You're afraid."

Shut up, shut up, shut up.

Kagome nodded, grinning as if she'd won. "I bet that if a girl actually said yes to you, you'd run for the hills."

"Hmm," he tried to bite back a grin. He watched the fire for a moment, its flames licking at the smoke.

__

Do _it_. _Do_ _it_. _Ask_.

"Want to test that theory, Kagome-sama?"

Kagome blinked. "What?"

He watched her hungrily, then said, in a deep, low voice, "Say yes to me."

She observed him skeptically for a moment, then huffed stubbornly, as if intent on proving her point. "Okay, _fine_," she puffed. "Yes."

Miroku stood up—

"Miroku-sama, what—?"

—and with a deadly serious expression on his face, he kissed her.

.

.

.

.

.

****

Miroku: Just how drunk are you?

****

Kagome: ...um. You won't take advantage of me. You're too nice.

****

Miroku: Am not. And I certainly will take advantage of you.

****

Kagome: Won't. Because you _care_. You—umph_mmm_!

[ _gratuitous_ _scene_ _deleted_ _in_ _accordance_ _with_ _ff_._net_ _rules_. _ ]


	7. Art

****

Author's Note: Christ, Episode 101? Miroku. Singing. Lullabies!

Also, thank you for reviewing. Um. I hope you realize there _was_ no gratuitous scene at the end of last chapter. It was a joke. Or, well, attempt at a joke. Eheh. -_-; 

__

Landlady, Freud would love you.

__

Cin _of_ _Angel_, you are my new concubine. No objections. ^_~

.

.

.

****

Warning: progressively sillier. Also, if you've sent me emails and haven't gotten a response, it's because:

****

Sandra: Hey, AOL, I have finals. I'll be busy. So. _Don't_ _delete_ _my_ _stuff_.

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AOL: Okay.

****

Sandra: Hey, AOL...

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AOL: Yes, Sandra?

****

Sandra: Um. Where's my inbox? It was here a second ago.

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AOL: I am sorry, Sandra. Your inbox is no longer operational. It has contracted a virulent affliction—

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Sandra: It's an _inbox_.

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AOL: _Chill_, baby girl, I jus' be messin' wi'chou.

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Sandra: Oh! Oh, thank God. So, you still have my mail?

****

AOL: Of course not.

.

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****

Step **Six**

The art of love... is largely the art of persistence.

.

.

.

Itwas the best of times; it was the worst of times.

She hadn't slapped him. She hadn't pushed him away. She'd let him kiss her brains out. She thought she knew everything about him? Ha! He'd show _her_.

"You said yes to me," he whispered slyly, and to emphasize his point, lowered his mouth to her chin, gently grazing her skin, slowly moving up and up, until his lips brushed hers.

He could ignore her muffled protests. He could ignore the way his robes were becoming thoroughly restricting. He could ignore the fact that she wasn't interested in him. But he couldn't ignore—

The persistent little something that was chewing on his leg.

"Miroku!" Shippou, the littlest kitsune, groused, fidgeting and, obviously, no longer interested in sleep. "Inuyasha's going to rip you a new one."

Miroku's lips curved upwards against Kagome's.

He slowly drew his mouth lower, in a wet, achy slide. He couldn't let her win. He couldn't. She was wrong. He wasn't... afraid.

Huffily, he raised a disdainful eyebrow, and though every cell in his body was throbbing with this inexplicable (though not _that_ inexplicable) need, he slowly released Kagome from his grip. She wobbled dizzily for a moment, then raised a shaky finger.

"You... you..." she pinched him aggressively. "You! _Ooh_!"

Miroku grinned wickedly.

Kagome stood there for a moment longer, looking deep in thought. Then, to Miroku's utter horror, she smiled dazzlingly.

Miroku said his prayers.

"You..." she whispered, softly this time. "You've made me so happy!"

Miroku wondered if his left arm was supposed to be tingling so ominously.

And then—

She pounced, tackling him to the ground, and peppering his face with countless butterfly kisses.

He could vaguely feel the blood leave his face.

W—what brought this on? It was—it wasn't suppo—why—and—

"Oh, Miroku," she clapped her hands enthusiastically. "You _love_ me!"

Miroku blinked.

Kagome pounced. "I—I can't wait to introduce you to my family!" she said ecstatically. Miroku swallowed hard. "They're going to _love_ you. Grandpa especially!" she squealed, clapping her hands.

Miroku couldn't feel his legs.

__

Love? He didn't—he wasn't—_I'm_ _never_ _talking_ _to_ _another_ _female_. Ever again.

"Ooh! And once we get married for real, do you think we should live here or—or in my time? Because, I mean, we have to raise Shippou together and, well, my time has better schools," she paused thoughtfully, scooping the little kitsune into her arms. Shippou blinked wildly.

Miroku mirrored him.

He felt... dizzy. Breathless. _Panicked_.

Must. Get. Out. _Now_.

"Ano, Kagome..." he began carefully, inching away from her. "Perhaps we should—"

But Kagome wasn't listening. Her eyes were glittering madly as she suddenly snuggled into him. "Wow," she said haughtily, "we'll spend the rest of our lives together. With each other. Just the two of us."

Miroku's brain exploded.

Kagome nestled into his shoulder. Shippou gave him a frightened look.

The rest of his life.

Uh. That... that was a... long—_very_ _long_—time. Unless. Unless! There was still the little matter of the curse! The kazaana. It might consume him soon. Besides! This was the warring era. He could die tomorrow! And—

Dear Buddha. Was she _right_? Did Kagome know him better than he knew himself? How was that possible? He actually preferred death to serious commitment? How did Kagome—

__

Kagome.

Oh, crap. He'd finally tricked her into confessing her burning desire, and his first instinct was to flee the premises?

A slight breeze lifted the hem of her little kimono, exposing creamy skin.

He couldn't. He couldn't hurt her. He didn't _want_ to hurt her. Because she... she was—

She was...

__

Grinning.

"I rest my case, Miroku-sama," she chirped triumphantly, folding her hands in her lap. She arranged her face into an innocent expression, but he could clearly see the mischievous smile playing about her lips. 

__

Wench. WENCH.

"So, all of that just now was—" he breathed out, wondering if his heart was _ever_ going to slow down.

Kagome grinned brilliantly. "I—" she began happily. "I hate losing, too."

Damn. _Point_ _proven_.

Scoffing, Miroku tried to hide a grin. And failed miserably. She was insane. And amazing. And so much like him—

He couldn't help it.

He kissed her again.

His fingertips brushed across her cheek, lips gently pressing against hers. His anger and embarrassment melted away instantaneously. Shippou, who'd watched all this, thoroughly confused, whimpered.

Hmm. _It_ _might_ _not_ _be_ _so_ _bad_. With Kagome, certainly.

__

Fear... _abating_.

Emboldened, Miroku slipped his fingers lower, skimming the waistline of her little kimono. She stilled instantly, and with a harsh exhale, blinked at him. Her cheeks were burning a bright crimson as she pushed herself away.

And then—

A surprisingly solid slap to his face sobered him up. He looked at her with a blink and both raised eyebrows.

Ow.

"Stop doing that, you pervert!" said Kagome, flustered. 

"Yeah, stop doing that!" said Shippou, pawing at Miroku's robes.

Miroku grinned an enlightened man's smile.

"No," he said simply.

The wind picked up.

Branches swayed.

Leaves rustled.

Crickets chirped.

The moon... didn't do much.

"You see, Kagome-sama," said Miroku ingeniously, prying Shippou's fingers off his ankle, "I've come to an exemplary conclusion."

Kagome's eyes widened slightly. Shippou cocked his head. Miroku observed them with a patronizing air about him.

"I'm going to prove you wrong," he murmured enticingly, eyeing Kagome's pouty bottom lip.

Kagome took a step back.

Miroku smirked to himself. No. She wasn't getting away. Not now. She'd gotten him adequately stimulated, inciting and provoking that primal part of his nature. She was _his_.

He deserved this. He did. He'd gone through so much abuse in the last few days. He needed this. He'd indebted himself to _Mother_, for heaven's sake. He would collect. He would. 

Vindicated, Miroku glanced at the little kitsune. "Shippou, leave for a little bit, please."

Shippou stood his ground. "Why?"

Miroku's lips curled wickedly.

Shippou blanched, and scurried away quickly.

Kagome yelped, putting her hands up defensively. _Not_ _quick_ _enough_. Miroku's fingers wrapped around her wrist easily, pulling her closer.

Kagome stumbled back, scrunching up her nose. "Miroku-sama—"

Something must have been showing in his eyes, something he didn't _want_ her to see, but she did anyway, because she suddenly looked a lot less terrified. Slowly, craftily, he ran a thumb down her cheek, tilting his head.

There was only one way to shut Higurashi Kagome up.

He crushed his lips to hers, wondering all the while if—

__

You're _officially_ _a_ _liar_, _Miroku_.

Didn't he swear he'd be keeping his fingers to himself? Didn't he threaten Akito? Didn't he decide Kagome was in love with Inuyasha? That she was—

__

—kissing _him_ _back_?

Miroku blinked his eyes open, then quickly shut them again, sliding his hands past her little red necktie, his palms brushing across her clothed flesh. Tentatively, he opened his eyes again to see her looking—

Gorgeous. Flushed and lovely and—

What was he _doing_? Spouting poetic crap while she was right there, a breath's width away, warm and soft and—

Gah. His fingers had gone on ahead without him. Lucky, lucky fingers. Currently, they were somewhere between her thighs (Miroku groaned bewilderedly), and while it was quite innocent and in all likelihood, harmless, his mind segued into the _possibilities_.

Praying Kagome wasn't as vocal as he suspected her to be, he contemplated lowering her to the ground and—

—realized he really wasn't getting enough oxygen to contemplate anything. So, instead, he tugged at her kimono, impatient to rid them both of such a formidable impediment.

He didn't especially stop to consider _why_ this Kagome hadn't murdered him by now. He hadn't even stopped to examine whether or not she was still breathing. In truth, he hadn't even checked if Shippou's little eyes were safe from this display.

Heh. _See_ _if _I _care_.

With renewed vigor, Miroku deepened the kiss, while his brain surrendered. The scent of black tea and white jasmine lingered in the air, rich and sweet and yes, it was so very obvious now. Higurashi Kagome wanted him, the furyou houshi. _Badly_.

And _this_ houshi was nothing if not generous. Why, he would not—_could_ not—refuse a beautiful woman in need. Especially if that need happened to coincide with his own. Really, it was all _very_ noble. _And_ selfless. And for the good of humankind. And puppies and babies.

Except, this time, she _wasn't_ asleep, and she _wasn't_ unresponsive, and—

A distant noise shook the ground below them. Loud, booming footsteps echoed rudely, advancing.

And while Miroku usually appreciated divine intervention, as he _was_ a devoted monk and all, this was. Not. The. Time.

He drew back, panting wildly.

A large, ugly demon, with scaly limbs and a feathered backside was towering over the orchard. Miroku sighed dejectedly.

__

Figures.

With a whining cry, Shippou bounded toward them, seeking protection.

Uck.

Stealthily, Miroku pulled Kagome behind him, casting one last glance at her slightly swollen lips. Sigh.

"_Don't_ argue with me this time," he commanded stiffly.

Despite the incredible blush that was still gracing her cheeks, he heard Kagome's huffy response.

"I didn't argue with you _last_ time," she muttered, tucking her hands in his robes.

Miroku blinked in surprise. Her fingers—

"Arguing implies immaturity and emotional instability," she continued, peeping at the demon over Miroku's shoulder. "And since the only immature, emotionally unstable person here happens to be _you_—"

"I am not immature!" he retaliated testily, keeping his eyes on the demon. It seemed to be looking for something (eheh...) and wasn't particularly curious about the three little blurbs below it.

"I am not immature," repeated Miroku, lowering his voice.

He heard Kagome snort behind him. "If you're not immature, and I'm not immature, why are we arguing?" she asked boldly.

Miroku sighed, and turned around. She squeaked, and took a step back, but his hands gripped her shoulders. Shippou leapt toward him, scurrying up his robes to wrap his little paws around Miroku's neck.

Miroku pointedly ignored him. "Kagome-sama," he said seriously. "I think this has been previously _established_," he told her studiously, "but there is some... unresolved sexual tension between us."

__

Smack.

Rubbing his cheek with a sulk, Miroku glanced at Kagome, then back at the little kitsune. "Wouldn't you agree, Shippou?"

"Yes, _Shippou_-_chan_," mumbled Kagome dangerously. "Wouldn't you agree? With _me_, I mean."

Shippou squirmed. Miroku and Kagome glared at him intently. Shippou squirmed some more. And then, just when Miroku was considering letting the little kitsune off the hook, Shippou grinned maniacally.

"I know!" he said triumphantly, a particularly wild glint flickering in his eyes.

Oh. _Dear_ _Buddha_, thought Miroku. _The_ _kid's_ _snapped_.

"I'll just do what I did when my mom and dad would get into a fight!" the child continued frantically, then leapt high up in the air, and—

__

Poof.

There went a pink balloon, bouncing off Miroku's head. Soon, it was nothing but a blur, heading toward the dimly-lit inn.

Blink. Er...

"He—he ran away," said Kagome dazedly.

__

Uh _huh_.

Miroku's brows furrowed with concentration. His arms slid from Kagome's shoulders to her hands. With a wicked grin, he turned toward the inn, and shouted, "Shippou!"

Kagome stood there, frozen to her spot.

The little kitsune poked his bushy head out, having been hiding in an empty barrel. "What?"

Miroku was still grinning. "I'm curious," he began pleasantly, "as to how exactly your parents preferred to reconcile."

Silence.

"Shippou?"

Nothing.

Miroku glanced at Kagome, who was glaring at him suspiciously, though her hands still rested in his. A small smirk curled his lips.

__

All _mine_.

He was ready to reconcile with Kagome in his own, special way, but—

Something was tugging at his robes. Miroku looked down. Shippou, his big eyes wide, was looking at him expectantly.

"They'd usually take a bath together," he said innocently as Kagome practically blacked out. Shippou scratched his chin bemusedly, latching onto Miroku. "But, for some reason, I'd never be allowed to go with them," he pouted thoughtfully.

An impish grin tickled Miroku's lips.

__

You _don't_ _say_.

"_Well_, Kagome-sama," he said with an overly dramatic flourish. "I think we better do as young Shippou says." He smiled playfully. "For the sake of the child, of course. No ulterior motive," he mumbled cleverly as he loosened his robes. "Honest," he said, reaching for her again.

His outer robes sank to the ground unceremoniously.

Eeek! Cold, cold! It hadn't been the smartest idea, but—

It was worth it. The almost-appreciative expression on her face was—

Wait. _Appreciative_?

Oh, yes, _I'm_ _a_ _dead_ _man_.

As expected, Kagome narrowed her eyes angrily and took a furious step closer, poking Miroku's chest accusingly. "Listen _here_, you evil monk!" she growled. "I (poke) will not be taking a stupid bath with (poke) you." She paused, took a deep breath, and launched herself at him.

Miroku winced, though his fingers welcomed the contact, thanking the bewildered monk on a well-executed move.

"And—and! Stop looking at me with those—those (she shrieked) those... EYES! I want_—won't! _Imean, I _WON'T—_be doing anything of the sort with (poke poke) you, no matter _HOW_ cute you are (Miroku's eyes widened) and, and, and—another thing—"

And then, she was—

She was—

__

Gone.

The demon.

THE DEMON.

Miroku cursed violently. Stupid, stupid, _stupid_. He'd forgotten. He hadn't been paying attention. Hadn't been thinking about anything except her. Hadn't been—

She thought he was cute?

GAH! _Again_. He was doing it again.

Through a mixture of anger and confusion, he looked up to see the demon, its one claw easily the size of Shippou, gingerly holding Kagome pinched between its paws. Promptly, the demon scratched its ugly head and brought it closer to Kagome. "You," it grumbled, its jaw unhinging. Kagome winced.

"Kagome!" Shippou screeched, panicking and nervously attacking Miroku's foot.

Miroku clenched his fists.

"Where's my cub?" the demon continued, looking—somewhat amicably—at Kagome.

Miroku groaned.

The girl was... she was _hopeless_. Trouble magnet, if ever there was one. Of the three blurbs, the demon decided to just randomly pick her up? Her? 

Okay, so, given the opportunity, Miroku would pick her up, _too_, and quite a number of times, really, and possibly, bring her down again, hard, slam her onto his—

"Cub?" Kagome asked sheepishly. "Fuzzy...? He, um... well, you see, it was... and... I..."

The demon blinked.

Miroku rubbed his temples. With a quick glance to assure himself Shippou was safe, he gathered his robes, collected his golden staff, and grumbled.

That was it, then. He'd never have to fight Naraku. 

Because Kagome. Would. Obviously. Get. Him. Killed. Tonight.

"You make no sense, human!" snarled the demon impatiently.

Miroku froze. No. No, no, no, _no_. Don't—_don't_ _drop_ _her_.

Dread rushed through his body, chilling him to the bone. Think, _think_, you idiot.

"Oi!" he shouted loudly. The demon blinked its five eyes dumbly.

Gah! Can't—_can't_ _use_ _the_ _kazaana_. Not with Kagome in its direct path. _Kuso_! He needed—he needed...

Sweet, holy Buddha, but he needed—

—_Inuyasha_.

No. _Kagome_ needed Inuyasha.

Oddly enough, the thought left a sour taste in his mouth. Feeling strangely antagonistic, Miroku pointed his staff at the demon.

"Put her down," he said calmly, though his tone was deadly. The demon eyed him warily. It glanced at Kagome, then Miroku, then back at Kagome. "Did you take my cub?" it asked. Kagome nodded, sniffling.

__

No, you idiot girl!

That was it. She was in for a spanking!

Damn. _Spanking_.

Momentarily distracted, Miroku almost missed it. The demon shifted its paws, and Kagome just—slid through its fingers.

For a moment, as Kagome's little kimono fluttered wildly in the breeze, Miroku could hear the world stop.

She could die. She could get seriously hurt if she hit the ground. She could—

Land is his arms?

Ow.

Relived, though they'd tumbled to the ground rather hard, he crushed her to him, mumbling unintelligibly into her hair. What was this bizarre emotion? Relief, certainly, but—

Her heart was beating incredibly fast. He could feel it. He could. And—she was trembling against him. Why? Why this sudden need to protect her? Why this sudden need to—

"A cub for a cub," he heard the demon say suddenly. Stunned, both Miroku and Kagome looked up.

Oh, crap. Shippou.

"Um, _help_?" the little kitsune whimpered from his unpleasant spot within the demon's fist.

Damn it. Was Kagome's bad luck contagious or something?

"Can't we establish a line of dialogue first?" asked Miroku carefully, calculating the distance between him and the child.

"Cub for a cub," the demon repeated, blinking its five eyes and cocking its big head. "Squish."

Miroku growled. Okay. No. **_No_** **_one_** _hurts_ _Shippou_.

"Shippou, when I tell you to, bite its hand and jump," he shouted, unwrapping his beads. "Do it!"

"Squish, squish," howled the demon, tightening his fingers around the kid.

"Shippou!"

And the little kitsune did it. He sank his tiny fangs into the demon's paw, yelped, and tumbled to the ground safely.

Certain that Shippou was adequately beyond the demon's range, Miroku looked up furiously.

__

Like I said. "No one hurts Shippou."

The trees bent their heads as Miroku's kazaana did its job. Except—

The demon. The demon was too large. It roared dangerously, stomping its feet, and planting itself firmly into the ground. 

__

Eep.

Concentrating, Miroku watched the demon's tail swing about, demolishing the orchard. Not that Noda didn't deserve a little property damage, but—

Frowning, Miroku closed his fist, wrapping the beads around it.

Yep. 

They were screwed.

The demon stopped struggling, obviously aware of the change in physics. It mewled uneasily, and unhinged its jaw again, its saliva drenching everything below it. Which, unfortunately, included Shippou.

With a quick, menacing glance at Miroku, the demon—

Withdrew.

And as its footsteps echoed in the distance, Miroku frowned and went to check on the kid. Shippou sat there, soaked and sticky, looking dejected.

"You're going to need a bath," said Miroku, putting as much cheer into his voice as humanly possible.

Shippou's eyes widened terribly. "No! No more baths! No—no more!" he cried, shaking his little head. He raised an arm, covered with goo, and pointed at Miroku. "You can't make me, you just can't and—"

With a lightning-quick pounce, Shippou was off again, toward the inn, knocking Miroku backwards. Miroku hit the ground, laughing.

At least the child was safe. That was all that ma—

Huh. The ground. It felt unusually soft.

"Um, Miroku-sama?" came a silky voice.

Oy. Was he—did he? Yes. Yes, a million times _yes_.

My, but she felt so good beneath him. Happily, he flipped over.

Now, this... _this_ was unquestionably a position he could work with. Finally.

She squirmed underneath him, but didn't push him off. In fact, she was watching him oddly, a peculiar inkling shimmering in her eyes.

"Keh. He didn't even say thank you," said Miroku amusedly, wedging his knee between hers. He paused. Kagome was—

"Thank you," she said softly, not meeting his eyes.

__

Throat... _dry_.

Her arms were flat against her body and she was picking at the grass and... Miroku didn't want to move. So, well, obviously, he _didn't_.

"Ano... That demon will be back," he continued, chagrined to find himself stalling for time. Kagome nodded silently.

Carefully, Miroku weighed his next words, then said, in a low, calculated voice, "Though, perhaps by the time it returns, Inuyasha and his Tetsusaiga will be here."

__

Huh.

Look at that. No noticeable reaction.

Miroku tilted his head curiously. "I said—"

"Miro-kun," she mumbled, finally glancing at him. "Your staff."

Miroku blinked.

"Your staff is covered with the icky stuff."

Miroku panicked. How did _that_ hap—

Oh. OH. His _actual_ staff. The metal one. The one... off to the side, drowning in demon-slobber. Eheh. Flustered, he scratched the back of his neck. He'd have to be very, very careful, because if either of them shifted by even a centimeter, Kagome would _know_.

And then, Miroku Jr. would be no more.

Gulp.

"Um, so, if you, you know, would get off me..." she continued self-consciously, "...you could go clean it, while I... hit the sack."

Miroku's head (and assortment of various body parts) ached. That was just... too much. Innuendo. It was all—

Kagome was giggling. "I'm sorry," she snickered, "You've got goop in your hair, too. So, I guess you should wash that out first."

Miroku frowned. Did she have to keep pointing out all his misfortunes? She was really _quite_ mean when it came right down to—

"Gomen ne," she giggled, face now flushed with glee. "I laugh... um, because I care?"

Miroku froze.

Kagome stopped giggling. "Miroku-sama?" she ventured uncomfortably.

"What did you say?" he mumbled in a deep, unsteady voice.

Her eyes widened a fraction. "It—it's just an expression," she squirmed, pushing herself away, refusing to meet his eyes.

Miroku watched her intently. And then—

Slowly, he crept closer, closer, until his body covered hers in a most delicious manner. And even through his thick robes, he could feel the warm curves he was pressing against.

His tongue, hot and wet, darted out to lick the corner of her mouth. "Just an expression," he whispered as way of apology, though he looked smug and slightly—

Apprehensive. 

Kagome was watching him uncertainly. 

"You're not a very good monk, are you?" she asked slowly, but made no attempt to get away.

Miroku grinned ruefully. "Not as such, no."

And then, predictably, Kagome raised her hand.

Feigning aloofness, he shut his eyes with a sigh, expecting one of her patented slaps. Which, at the moment, would be a welcomed circumstance. A fix, a distraction, a—

__

Wait _a_ _minute_.

He squinted experimentally. Her hand was there, all right, but...

Miroku's eyes fluttered open. And then—

—his heart stopped.

To his complete and utter bewilderment, Kagome was watching him sleepily, her fingers playing with his hair, a gentle smile lingering about her lips.

__

Kagome?

Kagome smiled softly.

"You taste like chocolate," was all she said.

Miroku gaped quite awkwardly.

Her earlier words echoed in his mind. 'Exactly _like_ _this_ _piece_ _of_ _chocolate_.'

And then, the next thing he knew—

His lips were brushing across her soft ones, his eyes were gently closed, his heart was racing, and—

—an almost inhumane growl tore through the night air.

A chilly breeze swept Miroku's little ponytail up, up, up, until the hair on the back of his neck prickled at his skin.

Oh, _crap_.

Cautiously, Miroku turned his head, his hands still pressing into Kagome's, erm, _parts_. His eyes adjusted to the darkness, and he could vaguely make out the orchard's distant shrubbery. The moon hung low over the darkened treetops, and—

—and there, obscured by shadows, stood an enraged silhouette, poised to pounce.

__

Inuyasha.

.

.

.

.

.

****

Inuyasha: So, I didn't miss anything important, did I?

****

Miroku: No. Say... you've been de-clawed, yes?


End file.
